Come What May
by FountainPenguin
Summary: As it turns out, Dimmsdale, California is no Peachfield, Idaho. As of 7:33 this evening, Kevin Crocker has hopped off the bus ready to spend a summer with an uncle and grandmother he's never met. Sigh. At least Uncle Denzel invited some neighborhood kids to welcome him. That'll be fun… right? He'd just be alone in the house otherwise… right? (Written July 2018 - Ongoing)
1. Denise and Da Nephew

(Posted July 24, 2018)

 **Denise and Da Nephew**

 _Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops_

 _Friday, May 14th, 2004 - 7:33 pm_

* * *

"He's taking my engagement hard," Mommy had said into the phone when she thought he wasn't listening. Technically she'd gone out to the back porch the way she always did when her nerves flared up, bundled in the fluffy pink coat that dribbled from her shoulders, her glasses pinned up in her thin hair. The only reason Kevin had even heard her was because he was fiddling with his soldering iron at his desk, and his bedroom window was open.

(Not that he'd left it open intentionally or anything.)

Her voice rasped like she'd been crying, which was a detail that Kevin-of-yesterday had purposely chosen to ignore, because no _way_ was he going to let himself feel guilty about upsetting her when she'd just ruined the _entire rest of his life_ with the mistake of some dumb lovey-dovey moment.

Mommy had paused, staring into the quiet depths of the pine forest around their little backwoods home, then said into her dumb, cracked phone, "I'm hoping he'll come around if given a little space. Yes. Yes, I already tried treating him to a big family vacation with Marvin and his daughter, but I'm afraid I only made things worse. Yes. Oh, she'll be staying with her aunt. Her late mother's younger sister. I've met her; delightfully bubbly woman. She'll have fun. Marvin is going with her. What? No. I can't leave in the middle of this project, and he and I need to be apart right now. Kevin's really a sweet boy. No, he won't be any real trouble, I'm sure of it…"

Kevin stung his thumb with the soldering iron. He'd shoved it in his mouth, sucking hard. Come around? Yeah. Right. Mommy didn't know him anymore. She didn't seem to care to, since she hadn't asked him if he even _wanted_ a new stepfather and stepsister in the first place before she'd babbled "Yes, I _will_ marry you!" A year ago, she hadn't been dating seriously. Yet now she'd gone star-smacking gooey-eyed over some slick-haired dork who only wore red and black and who drifted around the corners of rooms and breathed down people's necks when they were facing the other way. What was that about?

Kevin had already decided nine months ago that Marvin Oakes was a vampire. It made total sense. Mommy tended to be a little… weird when it came to vampires. Personally, Kevin preferred robots. Robots were cool. Robots were predictable. Robots didn't have moms who married creepy vampires with creepy vampire daughters.

"Spending three months with Uncle Denzel and Grandmama will be good for you," Mommy had said as she helped him pack a few of his things. In reality, she'd done most of the packing herself. Kevin spent the whole time on his bed, organizing the toolbox he'd balanced in his lap and trying to pretend it took longer than it did. If he had to leave for one fourth of a whole year, he wasn't leaving his tinkering stuff behind. That was final.

"I didn't know I had an Uncle Denzel."

Mommy had sighed at that. She'd pressed the final stack of clothes—his underwear—into the little blue suitcase with the airport tag still on it from when they'd flown to Bracken Cave three years ago. "And he didn't know he had a nephew, so I suppose you're even."

"If you trust him enough to send me to live with him, why haven't I ever met him before?" Kevin had given up fiddling with the toolbox and closed the lid. He'd leaned down to set it on the floor, arm swinging back and forth. While he was at it, he pulled up a fold in one of his socks. Socks were stupid. "Uncle Denzel's never sent me presents. Not even a card for my birthday, or maybe some cash. Shouldn't Grandmama have visited for Christmas or something?"

That had made her pause. "Grandmama and I haven't been on speaking terms for the last thirteen years."

"Why should I have to get along with her when you weren't even brave enough to tell her I exist right to her face?"

"Kevin," she'd snapped, and he'd sprung straight off the bed with a little _"Gih!"_ sound _._ Mommy removed her glasses and rubbed her face with one poofy sleeve. "Kevie, baby, I know this is hard for you right now. But the fact is, Marvin and I are in love. Whether you like it or not, we're getting married next April. Please, angel." And Mommy's hands rested on his knees. "I didn't get to have a wedding with your father. Please be a good boy for me, and let me have this."

He'd squirmed, listening to the angel and devil on his shoulders argue about how this was his life too, and he deserved to have a say on bringing a new dad and sister into his life. Unable to come up with a response, he rubbed the lucky shark's tooth he always kept on a cord between his shirt and his chest.

"Someday you'll thank me," Mommy said. "You need this just as much as I do. I worry about you, Kevin. Robots are no replacement for real, human interaction. Please don't alienate your stepsister. She wants to be your friend."

"Molly talks to the blender and her baseball bat," he'd muttered. "And her fluffy teal tarantula is super creepy."

"You've always told me you liked Molly." She'd sounded hurt.

"Well, yeah, she's _okay_ , but I didn't mean I wanted her for a sister. She drinks the milk straight from the carton." Was it petty for him to be upset about that? Come on, it was gross!

Instead of answering, Mommy had merely checked her watch. "I want you to take the fastest shower you can. The bus comes in forty minutes. It's an 18-hour ride to Dimmsdale. Be safe, and call me when you get there."

Kevin did not respond. He nudged his toolbox with his foot.

Denise Crocker brushed his scruffy hair back with her drooping pink sleeve and kissed his nose, right at the place the bridge of his glasses fell. Then, running her fingers around and towards his ear, she whispered, "I love you, Kevin. So much."

The words _I love you too, Mommy,_ echoed only in his head.

Now, Kevin-of-today leaned his forehead against the dirty bus window, squinting at the passing houses as they all blurred together. It was actually funny. If there was such a thing as magic, he still wouldn't try to use it to stop his mother's wedding. She was his mommy, after all, and even though he was angry, he didn't really mean it. Marvin and Molly were okay. They had that awkward goth vibe clinging around them and everything they did, but they were still nice people deep down, probably? Maybe way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way deep down in there somewhere. The thing was, Kevin still wanted her to be happy. But what he did wish was that instead of being shipped off to some coastal town called Dimmsdale to stay with a grandma he didn't know and an uncle he'd never even heard of, his mother had sent him to visit his father.

And that, Kevin decided, grabbing his pillow and toolbox as the bus chugged to a stop outside Camp Learn-A-Torium, was actually a pretty sad and pathetic thing to pine for. He didn't really know much more about his father than he knew about his Uncle Denzel. Just that his mommy had known the guy since they were kids. Elliot Buxley (or whatever his name was) had been the perky, adventurous sort with a huge gap between his front teeth and scraggly platinum blond hair. And, of course, eyes that "glittered like chips of jade in the bottom of a jewelry box." Et cetera, et cetera, fluffy gooey romance mush, repetition, repetition. Traits that were still no match for the Crocker gene pool (No other family line ever was, according to his mother). But she was also the one who didn't keep a single photo of their relatives around. She'd simply claimed Kevin would recognize them when he saw them at the bus station. Okay, then.

It still would have been interesting to meet his father for the first time. 10th-born in a family of 11 kids and knowing there wouldn't be much left to inherit by the time he came of age, Elliot had struck out from Dimmsdale in search of adventure–dragging his unfortunate best friend Denise Crocker along with him. As the story went, those two lovebirds had spent six months hopping trains together halfway across America and back again before Mommy realized one day that she had a baby she needed to think about. Kevin didn't know all the details that followed, but he wasn't stupid. Mommy was needy and Pop was a free-range man who'd given his heart to the railway. It was only a matter of time before they split apart, leaving Mommy to settle in southern Idaho without him. She'd raised her baby boy alone, in a small farming town that had no robots to speak of, and where more electricity was produced by lightning than sockets and wires. What a way to go.

Now every time Kevin snuggled in his bed and heard a train engine rumble by outside, he wondered if it had once pulled the cars that his parents had lived in and loved all those years ago. Mostly, he wondered if his father had eventually left trains behind, or if Kevin might bump into him someday were he to ever follow in his footsteps. Would they even recognize each other? Maybe not.

Sometimes, those nights when it was late and his bedroom echoed with the chirping of soft crickets, Kevin wished _he_ had someone to ride the rails with for six months. Traveling the country. Listening to metal clatter about. Tasting the freedom of the sky. The woodsy small town life just wasn't meant for him. Too many wooden buildings. Not nearly enough machines. Crops died in sudden frosts or storms. Animals keeled over without warning. You never knew what was around the corner, but the flutter it put in Kevin's gut wasn't one of curiosity and excitement, so much as one of nerves and fear. Even after eleven years, the life he knew just wasn't familiar. It wasn't predictable. It wasn't safe. Not the way his robots were.

Kevin-of-today jumped down the bus steps, slapping both his feet hard on the sidewalk. His suitcase bumped after him. No, even if a magic wand were to plop straight into his hand, he could never bring himself to reverse the impending marriage. What was the point? It wasn't like it was the worst thing in the world. Marvin would treat his Mommy right–Kevin didn't doubt that for a moment. Not only had he quizzed Molly face-to-face, but he'd run background checks on this Marvin Oakes guy a dozen times since his mother started dating him. He hadn't left his first wife. She'd died in a car crash along with their teenage son when Molly was seven. So that was something. At least Marvin hadn't up and left her. Maybe the guy wouldn't be a _total_ creep.

But so far, Kevin hadn't found the slightest hint of evidence that could make him believe Marvin Manfred Oakes was good enough for Mommy.

Mommy happened to be what their neighbors called "eccentric." As if her vampire obsession wasn't oddball enough without an extra hobby on the side, she considered her one true calling in life to be "an artist devoted to capturing mythical creatures that only I believe in–on the canvas with a splash of paint." Most kids had parents who might embarrass their children by arriving unannounced with a forgotten lunch or a change of pants. Kevin had a mother who never cared whether his homework was done well or even done at all, as long as he could paint beside or pose for her for hours on end. He fondly recalled being dragged out of school at the age of 8 in order to help her select the color palettes and scenery for her latest project. She'd usually check him out for lunch and somehow always forget to bring him back. Kevin also not-so-fondly recalled being dragged out of school at the age of 10 in order to pose in dresses or heavy military uniforms or itchy powdered wigs.

Humiliating.

It was for reasons like this the teachers always laughed when he tried to audition for the school play or sign up for sports. Other kids had stopped trying to invite him to parties and play-dates years ago. Kevin loved his Mommy, but for all her virtues, he fully recognized she was a respecter of no person's schedule but her own. He dreaded the day he moved out for college, because he fully expected her to walk into his dorm and drag him home again by the ear. She'd probably still be treating him like her baby when he finally made it into dental school.

But, he'd endured the taunts of "Mama's boy" and the wide berth his peers gave him years on end. His mother was as reclusive as the bats she loved to study (Probably even more reclusive–at least they lived in colonies). Kevin was all she had.

At least, Kevin was all she had until Marvin came into the picture. Kevin should have known from the start where those near-midnight dinners would lead. The man drank tomato juice from a wine glass and never touched garlic bread even when he was hungry. Mommy was hooked before she even had a chance to find out if he could cross a river.

Maybe, just maybe… he felt a little jealous. Mommy had never blown him off for anyone besides Marvin. Mommy had never cared about anyone except Kevin before. Mommy had never even suggested sending him away to live with his uncle until Marvin entered her life. Not even that time when Kevin was 6 and she'd gone hiking for three days chasing strange bats deep inside strange caves.

Come to think of it, this was the first time he'd ever left Peachfield not weighed down by cameras and his mother's insistence that they spend his entire vacation hunkered beside some guano-coated bridge or something.

None of the other few passengers unloaded from the bus after him. The bus pulled its door shut and rolled away again. Kevin peered both up and down the street. Then he stared across it to the other side. In the distant downtown portion of Dimmsdale, he could make out the silhouette of a building that looked vaguely like a pencil, with a yellow body and a pink penthouse office for the eraser and everything.

What was weird, though, was that this Camp Learn-A-Torium building behind him had similar decor around its edges too. Giant pencils formed the fence, coming together at one point to form the entrance gate where their tops interlaced, like parents after a soccer game. These Dimmsdalians must really like their pencils. But as Kevin stared up at the Learn-A-Torium, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that despite the friendly word "camp" in its name, it was even less inviting than that office downtown. The camp had several buildings behind the fence, including some massive alphabet blocks. Nothing looked like it had gotten a lot of use over the last thirty or forty years. Every window was blackened. Scattered litter decorated the ground. Spiderwebs spread between the posts of the fence, glowing faintly golden in the sunset. Oh yeah. Also, most telling of all was the yellow tape strung diagonally across the gate. It said one word: CONDEMNED.

Other than that? There wasn't much around. No people, either. Shouldn't his Grandmama or at least this Uncle Denzel character have been waiting for him at the bus stop? Kevin didn't mean to be bitter, but _come on._ He'd just spent 18 hours on a bus from Idaho, and then another half hour roaming town on the Dimmsdale Local. He'd crossed a time zone! Couldn't these oh-so-caring and trusting family members make a bit of effort to greet him with hugs and smiles? Or maybe a plate of snickerdoodles? He liked snickerdoodles, and the one thing Mommy had mentioned about Grandmama was that she could bake some really awesome snickerdoodles.

Well, at least he had their address. Kevin pulled his battered notebook from his backpack and flipped it over. He'd scrawled the numbers down in blue pen. The ink was starting to smudge, but the numbers were still clear. _4158 Woodnick Lane._ That sounded a little too much like "wooden nickel" for Kevin's liking, which was kind of a little sketchy, but he shoved that thought down with a swallow.

Now… How to get there? Kevin tilted his head. He pulled on his backpack, stuffed his pillow beneath his arm, grabbed the handle of his suitcase in one hand, and picked up his toolbox with the other. The bus stop he'd been dropped at had a covered bench framed by plexiglas walls, and a map had been pinned to a strip of felt on one of them. It was waterstained and wrinkled from years of use, and Kevin stared at it blankly for two minutes before he even figured out where he was. Mostly because it was upside-down. Huh.

Putting the toolbox down again, Kevin felt in his pocket for his pen. He uncapped it with his teeth and drew a few big, fat circles along Strawberry Street. _You are here_. Hopefully no one would track him down later to yell at him for vandalism or something, but the splash of blue did somehow make the little bus stop a bit more friendly.

Bubbly laughter broke into his thoughts. Kevin twisted towards the street, the pen cap still in his mouth.

"See, what I tell ya, Fretty Francine?" teased a boy's voice. "There's nobody up here but us."

"Timmy," protested the girl.

Kevin squinted through the plexiglas walls and stepped forward. Two kids about his age, one with a green helmet and one with a pink one, had suddenly appeared down by the street sign that marked the corner of Strawberry Street and something else. Kevin didn't know where they'd come from. Camp Learn-A-Torium was perched on a slight hill, with the path sloping downward in both directions, and he hadn't heard them skating up. Nevertheless, they were obviously there.

"Come on, Clo. This hill'll serve you major air at the bottom. You're guaranteed to scrape both knees before you reach Shirley's, if you don't land on your face. It's the best place in town to practice split-second _poof_ ing under pressure. Especially when you go flying straight down with your eyes shut."

The boy was clearly more comfortable being on wheels, skating one-footed circles around the girl as she fiddled with her helmet's chinstrap. She already bore a few raw bruises and scratches down one arm. Still… honest, non-mocking laughter enveloped her voice like the petals of a blossoming flower. Kevin hadn't heard that sound in a while. She wobbled over to the start of the hill. Before she'd been there longer than two seconds, the boy—Timmy—took her shoulders and nudged her forward. The girl yelped, arms flying out to either side. She veered too far to the left. Timmy cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Don't worry, Chloe! Wanda won't let you crash… more than once! Probably! Unless it's funny!"

"That wasn't _niiiiiice!"_ Chloe called back, giggling as her voice faded away. Her wispy blonde hair waved behind her like a flag in the wind. The boy gave his helmet two pats and took off after her. They were gone as soon as they'd appeared. The whirring sound of roller skates and occasional playful shout was all that remained. Even so, Kevin found himself staring after them in silence for almost an entire minute more. This Timmy, this Chloe… They looked like they were having fun together.

They looked like they were friends.

He shook his head. After giving his lucky shark's tooth one last, comforting rub, he started off towards Woodnick Lane.

He found the house more quickly than he'd expected to. At first glance, it looked as run down as a man who hadn't made it out alive from the Running of the Bulls. In the fading light of the sunset, Kevin _almost_ couldn't see the cracks running along the chipped exterior walls. The roof had been patched with clumsy boards in some places, and the grass was overgrown and bleached yellow-brown. Wind whistled through two broken windows on the upper floor. Kevin waited a good full minute, watching the sky in case lightning struck above the roof. It wasn't raining, but it would have been fitting.

Well, this was the address. The number was right there beside the door. Kevin dropped his stuff on the front step, then stretched out his arms and rotated his wrists as he read the bright yellow note taped above the doorknob.

 _Dear Nephew Kevin,_

 _Mother is out at Bingo Night and I had to make an emergency run to the hardware store,_

 _but you'll find the key to the house inside the little knothole of the tree._

 _You know, the one in the front yard? Just let yourself in. Maybe have a snack,_

 _or just weep those salty tears away in your nice fresh bed. Room's upstairs on the left._

 _Or, cuddle with Girlfriend: My hairless cat!_

 _Hope to see you soon. That is, if the fairies don't get you first!_

 _With much love, Denzel Crocker_

Kevin read the note twice. Then again. "Fairies" was emphasized with random zigzags, the pen ink thick and smudged. With slow, puzzled footsteps, he made his way over to the lonely tree in question. It didn't seem very smart to leave a note on your front door telling everyone where you hid your house key. Especially since a knothole seemed like a much better hiding place than just under a rock or the welcome mat. You know, this Uncle Denzel could have just texted him. Kevin could have sworn he'd heard Mommy give him her number when she'd called.

When Kevin stopped in front of the knothole, he felt his foot sink into the ground. Glancing down revealed a sunken patch of earth, just like the kind you see in adventure movies when a booby trap gets activated. On that cue, a net of metal wire dropped from the branches, tangled around his limbs, and brought him to the ground.

 _"Gihk!"_ Kevin flung his arms around his head.

He watched, bug-eyed, as a panel in the wood of the tree slid sideways to reveal the grill of an enormous speaker. It crackled, then began.

 _"Hello! If you're hearing this message, then congrats! You're not dead! You've just stumbled into one of the many_ **FAIRY** _traps around the premises of my house, which means you are trespassing! If it were up to me, you'd be roasting at a toasty 475 degrees in my crockpot right about now."_ Sudden cackling interrupted the message, causing the speaker to fizz and shriek. Kevin clapped his hands over his ears until the laughter died away. _"However, while on my probation, I've been required to set traps that should only catch_ **FAIRIES** _, and which any human who isn't Timmy Turner's Dad should have no real trouble escaping from. So as long as you aren't a fairy, good news! It's your lucky day! Don't call the cops!"_

The speaker retreated back into the tree trunk. A second panel below it opened, and a tiny silver key stretched out on a tray, alongside a folded notecard. _Sorry for the trap, Kevin. It's for the fairies. Love you!_

Kevin stared at the key, unable to relax the tips of his toes. So there really was a key here all along? And his uncle had knowingly sent him into some bizarre security system trap anyway? Some loving relative.

The net, as it turned out, wasn't even that difficult to get out of, just as his uncle had promised. Kevin simply hunted around until he found the edge, lifted it up, and crawled underneath it. He swiped the key from the tree tray, then circled the trunk twice. The sliding panels had vanished as though they'd never been, and try as he might, Kevin couldn't manage to coax them out again. Even when he jumped up and down on the panel that had triggered the trap in the first place. He shook his head.

"Boy, if I wasn't 90% sure I just wet myself in terror, I'd be way more excited about this. Hmm…" Kevin narrowed his eyes and pushed out his lower lip. He tapped his chin with the end of the key. "No sane human would ever spend this much time and money turning their yard into a metallic, futuristic paradise. There can only be one logical explanation. Uncle Denzel must be…"

Kevin took a deep breath. He threw his arms above his head. "A _**CYBORG!** "_

Silence. A few crickets chirped at him. Kevin didn't allow their lack of enthusiasm to dampen his mood. If Uncle Denzel was secretly a cyborg (or maybe not so secretly), then his summer just became a whole lot more interesting!

With that thought in mind, he trotted across the yard back to the porch. Forgetting, of course, to keep a sharp eye out for more fairy traps along the way. No matter. He ripped the yellow note from the door and stuffed it in his pocket. The key from the tree fit perfectly in the lock. Stepping over his pillow and toolbox, Kevin swung open the door.

All was quiet. All was dark. There were two large windows in the front room, but both had their curtains drawn shut. Kevin stood for an extra second or two on the front step, not really sure what he'd expected to find when he first walked into the house his estranged uncle and Grandmama shared. Maybe a collection of fishing poles and neckties? A basket of knitting supplies with a half-finished project draped over the arm of a worn but padded chair?

The living room was nice enough, with a green couch and a small, out-of-date TV set. Cozy and practical. The faint set of kitty litter in the air confirmed his relatives kept a cat, or maybe more than one. The place might be a little dusty, but it didn't look so bad overall. Kevin felt around for a light switch, but yanked back his hand when the only one he could find was falling out of the wall with three of its wires sparking visibly. Fixing that up would definitely be on his list of projects starting tomorrow. But for now, Kevin simply dragged his things in from the porch and closed the door behind him.

He was just reaching for his shoes so he could (after 19+ hours by this point) take off his smelly socks, when three spotlights thudded on. One after the other. _Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!_ Every one was aimed at him. Kevin snapped up his head, squinting into the triple lights. He blocked most of the glare with his free hand. He hadn't noticed until now, but apparently he was standing just behind a podium with a little microphone attached to its top.

"And now," proclaimed a voice from the shadows, emphasized by the speakers and underscored by its own shrill delight, "coming to you live from a living room near you, it's Dimmsdale's new favorite game show, _Crocker or Fairy?_ I'm your host, Den _zeeeeeel_ Crocker!"

Canned applause erupted from all sides. Kevin risked a peek between his fingers. A single, thinner spotlight focused on the other side of the living room, where a man in a white shirt and crisp tie stood on a small platform, arms raised to welcome all the clapping. Kevin was instantly struck by the similarities between the bizarre man before him and the mother he'd left in Peachfield: black hair, glasses, thin figure, pale skin, fading freckles and aging spots, the works. A second after that, he realized something else: _Whoa. Not only is this guy a dead ringer for Mommy, but he looks a lot like…_

… _Me._

This was followed immediately by the panic of, _Oh wait, so that's what I'm going to look like when I get old_. Boy, was that ever a sobering thought! Kevin studied the man nervously, holding his toolbox with a grip that could've crushed honeycomb. Hopefully when he grew up, he wouldn't have that same weird, bulging hump and stooped posture.

"Wh-what's going on, Uncle Denzel?" he managed to stammer out.

The man leered forward, grinning from ear to ear. Or maybe from eye to eye. "I'm glad you asked, Kevin! If that's even your real name. I've only recently learned of your existence in the first place, so rather than get to know you personally with a tender phone call, I chose to spend my time devising this intricate test that will help me determine whether you are exactly who you claim to be. So, before I commit to spending the extra dough I've scraped off the PTA fund I MEAN MY LEGITIMATELY EARNED TEACHER'S SALARY to look after you, I'm here to prove that you really are my estranged half-sister's son and not a _**FAIRY**_ in disguise."

He twitched when he said the word _fairy_ , his body briefly contorting into a twist. Bullets of sweat raced each other down Kevin's neck to his ears. He'd only known Denzel Crocker for thirty seconds tops, and he was really starting to think his estranged uncle was less of a super-cool cyborg and more of an escaped lunatic on the lam. "But I am your nephew Kevin, Uncle Denzel! Honest, I am! Call my cell phone and I'll prove it!"

"Ha! Like I haven't heard that one a million times before. That's what they all say, kid."

Kevin watched, jaw slack, quaking in his tennis shoes, as Uncle Denzel lifted an index card near his eyes. The twisted smile curling across his face could have pickled cupcakes. "Now, accept that I've trapped you into a living room quiz show like a big boy, and we'll get this game on the road. Get ready to play for your life on, _Crocker! or! Fairy!?"_

At that, Kevin's hand went up. "Hang on, did you just say 'my life?'"

Uncle Denzel pointed two finger guns in his direction. "Ooh, so sorry, but all questions must be phrased in a way that won't land me knee-deep in trouble with the law if I answer. Don't touch that dial, folks. We'll be right back!" And to Kevin, he scoffed, "What kind of crazy person even uses dials on their television sets anymore these days? Learn to press a _button_ , hippies! Get with the program!"

Kevin buried his face in his folded arms, leaning all his weight against the podium, and tried very hard to pretend he'd never been born.

* * *

 **A/N** \- This multi-chapter but (relatively) short piece is an exercise in setting and movement. Setting is usually one of my weaker points as a writer, I think, but I'm pleased with how everything has come together so far. Let me know your thoughts when you review!


	2. Watch the Walls

(Posted July 31, 2018)

 **Watch the Walls**

 _Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops_

 _Friday, May 14th, 2004 - 7:57 pm_

* * *

Okay. The spotlights trained on his position he could accept. The podium, sure. Fake applause? Understandable. But it was the corny game show music that set Kevin's teeth on edge. Where was that even coming from? Sure, the living room was dark (minus the lights on him and his uncle), but Kevin couldn't see any trailing wires or pumping speakers nearby.

None of this seemed to bother his uncle, who didn't seem to have a problem sweeping the nephew he'd never met into a fairy-catching net trap, so he probably didn't have a problem blasting music through the house at this time of night either. When Kevin raised his head from the podium, he saw Uncle Denzel straightening his tie.

"And we're back, folks, on _Crocker or Fairy?_ Where today, my nephew Kevin (If that's who he really is) will prove his identity to both me and the world if he can correctly deliver the answers to five simple trivia questions I have here in my hands." Uncle Denzel laughed. "Simple! As if! Now, let's jump straight into it, shall we? Kevin Crocker?"

Kevin straightened to attention. His hands gripped the sides of the podium he stood behind. "Um. Yes, Uncle Denzel?" His voice squeaked in the microphone jutting up at his mouth.

"Your first question. What was… 11th United States president James Polk's middle name?"

Thankfully, an easy one to answer. Kevin's fingers didn't relax anyway. "Um. Knox?"

The applause rocketed from the corners of the room again. "He got it right," Uncle Denzel shouted, clinging to the railing of his platform as he hopped up and down. "Astounding! Stupendous! Ohh, Kevin's alibi is looking promising straight out of the gate! Now, let's see how he defends himself against the sharkvark stampede!"

"How I what the which what when?"

Another net fell from the ceiling. His Uncle Denzel seemed to keep a lot of those around. He also seemed quite happy to keep a lot of levers around, as he for some reason had a giant red one protruding from the wall near the platform where he stood. When he thrust it down, grinning like a maniac, a panel slid sideways in a nearby wall just like the one in the tree. A single snarling… _thing_ rocketed into the room. Kevin screamed, diving behind the podium. _"Gurrp!_ Mommy, why?!"

The alleged sharkvark scuttled straight past him and disappeared under a sagging armchair before Kevin could get a close look at its face.

"Excellent form! Top notch duck and cover! A classic response! The desperate plea for mercy could use a bit of work, but I sense the pathetic Crocker genes in his blood already." Uncle Denzel whipped out a second index card from someplace or other and pressed two fingers against the bridge of his glasses. "And speaking of sharks, we're onto Round 2. Kevin? If you're so clever, then what do you call the type of scales that cover a shark's cartilaginous body?"

Kevin, still rocking back and forth, brought his hands away from his eyes. He crawled out from under this new net, brushing loops and tendrils of it from his shoulders. "Uh… shagreen? I mean, I mean, uh… dermal denticles?"

"That's fantastic! And something only a real Crocker would know! You live with your mother and her shark-skin elbows for sure. Way to familiarize yourself with those unusual adjectives, my boy. They'll come in handy when you're ranting about her furiously to a crowd of snot-nosed brats someday, so keep it up. Almost to the finish line here. And now, for your third question… It's something your mother promised that only her little boy could answer. What is a mesioden?"

"Ooh!" Kevin flashed to his feet, abandoning his trepidation. He beat his hand back and forth in the air. "Ooh ooh ooh! I know this one! A mesioden is a super rare molar that might grow in the back of your mouth if you have a condition called hyperdontia!"

"Absolutely! Now, pop quiz! Tell me the only place in the world where you could walk outside and find a gelada monkey in its natural habitat?"

"Ethiopia!"

Uncle Denzel clapped his hand against his head. "I can't believe it! He's a natural! He's hit every curveball I've thrown at him! Clearly a boy after my own heart! Ladies and gentlemen, we only have one question left. If today's contestant answers correctly, then not only would it prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he really is my estranged nephew from Peachfield, Idaho, but also that-"

 _"Just read my final card, Uncle Denzel!"_

Uncle Denzel raised his arm for silence. "Now, now, Kevin. Keep your socks on. Okay. Are you ready for this?"

"I'm ready!"

"Are you really ready for it?"

"Heh! Heheheheheh! Do I look like I'm not? You're facing down the lifelong champion of random useless trivia back home, Uncle Denzel! Hit me and hit me with it hard!"

"Then allow me to present you with your final question. What would you call a human with extraordinary abilities far beyond the norm who draws these powers from mechanical enhancements embedded into his flesh and blood?"

This was it. This was his moment. Kevin crouched as low as he could get, drawing in all his muscle power, and sprang as high as possible. In mid-air, he twisted around. His arms crossed. His eyes rolled about. His legs flailed.

"A _**CYBORG**_ _ **!**_ "

"Ding ding ding!" Uncle Denzel flung his hands in the air. Index cards rained in all directions. "Congratulations, Kevin, my boy! You passed with phenomenal marks! It's a brand new _Crocker or Fairy?_ record! Show him what he's won, Mother!"

Kevin jumped up and down behind the podium, kicking up his heels each time. "Woo-hoo! I won! I won!" He stopped, hands still high above his head. "Wait, what do I win?"

The spotlight that had been trained on Uncle Denzel swiveled over to the opposite corner of the living room. Kevin cocked his head. No one was there, although a plate of fresh-smelling white chocolate macadamia cookies sat unattended on a small table with an old-fashioned house phone. Three cat figurines and a bowl of gumdrops sat beside it. One figurine fell over with a rattle, as though the nervous table had purposely knocked it to the floor.

"Oh, right." Deflating like a Crocker-shaped balloon, Uncle Denzel dropped his weight back onto his heels and touched a finger to his chin. "It's Bingo Night again. Of course the vile shrew would do this to me. Well, at least Mother isn't around to yell at me for dirtying up her good china." And he shrugged. "Help yourself to a cookie, Kevin, and ignore me when I refuse them myself. Those babies wouldn't be doing anything for my cholesterol or my internal plumbing, if you know what I mean."

Despite the curious giddy feeling now racing through his veins, Kevin took a cookie from the plate with some reluctance. He couldn't help but wonder if his uncle knew about his MSG sensitivity. Maybe he'd had the cookies laced with glutamate, and this was all still part of the test to prove he really was Kevin Quinton Crocker from Peachfield, Idaho. Still chewing through his cookie, Kevin idly reached for the gumdrop bowl.

"Don't eat those!"

"Mmuh?" Kevin asked through his cookie.

All of a sudden, Uncle Denzel looked embarrassed. "Those, uh… aren't really… sanitary. Even the cats won't touch them. I just keep them around to hand out to children from my class who I hate."

"Oh." Kevin brushed crumbs from his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Uh… So, um, not that this wasn't real fun and all, but what's going on, Uncle Denzel? I thought your note said you were going to the hardware store. Maybe for some light switch covers?"

Uncle Denzel swung his arm, brandishing his index finger. "Ha! Of course you'd expect that! That's exactly what I wanted you to think!"

Well, yeah. That's what he had thought.

Uncle Denzel hopped down from his platform for the first time. Actually, "hopped" probably wasn't the right word for it. He dove sideways, cartwheeling from the stand and flipping over when he hit the ground so he landed perfectly on his feet. Oh. Okay. Without even pausing, he threw an arm around Kevin's shoulders and gave him a few pats on the chest with the other hand. "Come in, come in! Though watch your step. As you can clearly see, over the years I've had to set traps and tests around the house in order to prevent it from being infiltrated by _**FAIRIES!**_ After all, I'm Denzel Crocker, world-class _**FAIRY-CATCHER**_ extraordinaire!"

"Oh," Kevin said. Each time his uncle used the word "fairy," he jerked about like a shrieking mess. Sometimes he kicked his legs into the air behind him. Kevin was starting to see which side of the family he got his cyborg fascination from.

"And, because I care about your mental health, and _NOT_ because I need a convenient excuse to leave you in the house while I stalk Turner and Carmichael halfway across town, I've invited over a set of three stepsiblings who attend the fifth-grade like you over at good ol' Dimmsdale Elementary, where you'll be attending school starting Monday, and where I teach snot-nosed little brats who refuse to hand over their _**FAIRY GODPARENTS!**_ "

On that phrase, Uncle Denzel suddenly snapped up straight despite the hump on his back. His arms went one way. His legs went another. For a good three seconds, the man actually appeared to be hovering in midair, like some sort of pasty, nearsighted vampire bat. He landed on the floor again, and looked over at Kevin.

"Where was I?"

"Uh…" Kevin pushed up his glasses with two fingers. Uncle Denzel had knocked them askew.

"Oh, yes. I remember it all so clearly now. Well, I invited the three of them to come over and welcome you into our quaint little town with open arms. Can't say I know them all that well or even like them very much, but who cares? They agreed! Someone accepted one of my invitations! A whole three of them!" He sounded as giddy as a child on a top-speed merry-go-round.

"What?" Kevin's question was actually, _You're a school teacher?_ as in, _You're a school teacher, and you endanger small children and crush their dreams of a pleasant, uneventful summer spent doing whatever they want? And you can afford high-tech speaker systems inside of trees and instant game show equipment inside your living room?_ Even a simple _What just happened?_ would be a valid thing to ask. But Uncle Denzel seemed to interpret the stammered word as something else. Admiringly, he held his nephew away from him by the shoulders.

"Oh, don't look so abashed, Kevin! My estranged half-sister Denise, who happens to be fourteen years younger than me and ran off with her chump train-hopping boyfriend while I was still attending North Baltimore Community College in order to receive my teaching degree after losing out on the chance and financial gains of a lifetime here at both Harvard and Dimmsdale University, informed me that you've been struggling with the whole 'new stepsibling' thing! Since she's your mother and it's her job to unexpectedly ruin your life in order to bestow upon you valuable life skills you'll never actually use and really could have been taught another way, then logically that must mean it's my job to ensure you're health and safety while I strip you of all the inhibitions your mother believes may come between her and this marriage with a man you never intended to view as a father figure and his daughter, who's lived two towns over from you your entire life and you really don't feel ready to bring into your bubble of personal space this soon after learning your mother expects you to act as though she's been your sister ever since you were born."

Kevin… remained speechless. Uncle Denzel didn't seem to require or even desire a response, so he steered Kevin into the wood-paneled hallway and babbled on.

"Well, since I had no real idea when you'd arrive and I couldn't be bothered to look up the bus schedule online, I told your sympathizers to stop by around, oh, 8:53ish tonight. So, you still have an hour to start getting comfortable with the place. Over there's the kitchen, and the dining room is in the back. Not that we ever get any use out of it unless Mother has her biker or Bridge friends over, so basically, it's yours! The bathroom's right here in the hall in case you happen to end up needing it. Not that you'll want to use this one very often if it can be avoided. Let's not get into the reasons why." He chuckled to himself and pushed Kevin a little faster. "Well, come upstairs, and I'll show you to your room."

"O-okay…" Kevin was still wearing his backpack, and he had his toolbox. His suitcase and pillow were apparently staying downstairs for now. He didn't have much say in that.

The stairs doubled back on themselves halfway up, folding into triangles in a way that reminded Kevin of Mommy's grilled cheese sandwiches. Two cats sunned themselves in the last of the sunlight leaking through a small window, their heads and paws nestled together. Both pricked their ears as the Crockers came close. The smoky black one fled upstairs at top speed, his puffed tail streaming behind him. Kevin didn't see where he went. The second cat was one of those hairless skinned-potato cats with wrinkles instead of fur, and a few dark blotches on her chest and back. One of them looked rather a lot like the state of Idaho, although the rest were unremarkable. Her eyes were blue-violet, searing into Kevin's forehead with intelligence beyond his expectations. Her fangs stuck out like snaggleteeth. Uncle Denzel brightened when she sat up. He even released Kevin's shoulders, although he continued to block the stairs–and therefore Kevin's path to the front door, which was too bad. You know. In case of emergencies.

"Girlfriend, you're awake!" Uncle Denzel scooped the sluggish cat into his arms. "Have you met my nephew, Kevin?"

 _"Mrrow,"_ said the cat, snuggling against his shoulder. Her slitted eyes stared down at Kevin, fiery as a warning bell. Her face was narrow, her ears enormous. In fact, she was just plain weird. But those eyes were the _worst_. They were like flashing police lights breathing down his neck. Or headlights flaring to life on a smashed junkyard car. Kevin flinched against the banister. Disregarding this, Uncle Denzel turned and offered him the cat with proud arms.

"Go on, Kevin. Don't be shy. You'll like Girlfriend. She's a real hoot after dark, and unlike Smokey, she actually belongs to me instead of Mother! It's just like winning the lottery, except this way I get to own a cat!" Uncle Denzel suddenly paused. "You're not allergic to cats, are you?"

Briefly, Kevin debated saying yes. The hairless cat dangling in front of him looked more like a naked human baby than a feline, and not at all something he really wanted to pet. But then that would be lying, and as crazy as his uncle had shown himself to be so far, Kevin really didn't want to lie to him. He shook his head and in slow motion brought his hand to Girlfriend's head. She flattened her ears.

"Don't worry," his uncle assured him. "That just means she likes it."

"But I haven't even touched her yet."

Uncle Denzel continued to hold out the scrawny cat. Oh gosh, he was actually waiting for Kevin to pet her. And he would probably continue waiting for Kevin to pet her. So Kevin did. The cat's flesh was warm and vaguely fuzzy like the skin of a peach. His fingers touched weird wrinkles along her body. When his fingers passed over the Idaho-shaped mark on the back of her neck, she growled at him, flashing her teeth. Kevin withdrew his hand, fast, and twisted his body away.

 _"Iih!_ She's giving me a funny look, Uncle Denzel."

"That's just my face, dear," said the cat.

Kevin jerked back so quickly, he hit his funny bone on the banister. "Ahh! It talks!"

"What?" Uncle Denzel looked down at the cat in his hands. But instead of saying "That's ridiculous, animals can't talk," you know, like a normal person, he studied the cat in honest surprise. "Really? I thought Girlfriend only talked to Mother."

"But didn't you hear her?"

"She meows a little funny every now and again, but she doesn't mean anyone any harm."

"But… but…" Kevin searched Girlfriend's bored face for clues and answers. "She did talk! Honest!"

"Then she's been holding out on me," his uncle muttered.

The cat mewed again. This time it sounded like mockery. Kevin had started to look away, but upon hearing her, he snapped his attention back around. Creepy and naked as she was, he brought his face right up against hers and squinted. Hard. At least if she chose to strike at his eyes with her claws, she'd hit his glasses first. "Ooh. Maybe she's a robot, Uncle Denzel. She could be a _**cyborg!**_ "

Uncle Denzel sighed. "No, Kevin. Cyborg was Mother's _other_ pet cat. Believe it or not, that was his name even before he lost his front legs in a treadmill accident and was taken in to be fitted for prosthetics. He had his own cushy cat bed, but he always tried to sleep under Mother's dresser whenever the door was open. If he were still alive, I'd bring him downstairs whenever I serve my students detention over the weekends. Ha! That would keep them from following me home after school!"

The bald cat wasn't revealing any further signs of intelligence, so Kevin pulled away. "Hmm. Can I take her apart–I mean, take her to my room, Uncle Denzel?"

Girlfriend continued to look just as unenthusiastic about this idea as she looked about everything. But Uncle Denzel gave the question some thought. "Well… as long as she wants to go, I suppose I can't object. After all, it's her life and her body, and she can do what she wants with them. Which is more than I can say for me and my own choices sometimes."

Finally, Girlfriend reacted. She tilted back her head and let out a cross mew. Uncle Denzel snickered.

"Oh, don't say that, Girlfriend. You'll hurt his feelings. Not you," he told Kevin, although Kevin swore his uncle whispered, "I just told him 'Not you,'" into the cat's ear.

"She's very, um…" Kevin stared blankly at the cat for a few seconds as he picked up his toolbox again. "Pretty?"

"Pretty? Ha! She's gorgeous! A real tigress in the alley if you ever saw one. Who knows? She might even have Smokey's kittens one of these days."

Girlfriend _hissed_ like this idea didn't appeal to her at all. Bemused, Uncle Denzel returned her to the floor. The cat squirmed between his legs, bounded up the stairs, and stalked off down the hall with her bare tail twitching like a lightning bolt. With that, Uncle Denzel grabbed Kevin by the elbow and dragged him after her. "Now, on with the show!"

Upstairs was dim, and it took Kevin a few seconds to figure out why. The only light in the hallway was all the way at the far end, centered above a grandfather clock with a rather damaged case. The pendulum was missing. Kevin hadn't realized a clock that didn't tick could ever be creepier than one that did, but the sight of the thing sent the hairs standing up along his arms. The flickering light bulb above the old clock gave it alone a halo, but the rest of the upstairs was dark. Luckily that wasn't totally disturbing. He clutched his toolbox tighter, taking in the repeating floral pattern on the wallpaper all the way down the hall. Girlfriend sat halfway between him and the clock, crouched and glaring.

"Now, Kevin. The first stop on our extensive tour is the bathroom I assume you'll want to use most frequently. And here it is now. Across from this fine destination is scenic Mother's bedroom, which I firmly advise against wandering into lest you step inside one of the fox traps I left out for the old bat." Again, Uncle Denzel laughed and gave Kevin's shoulders a squeeze, clearly inviting him to join in on this great joke. Kevin forced out a nervous noise that he hoped sounded vaguely amused and not too alarmed. He had a sudden thought, then: He had a Grandmama living here, but where was Grandpapa anyway?

Then a new line of thought popped into his head. Wait. Mommy and Uncle Denzel shared the same mother, but different dads. Did that mean his Uncle Denzel had welcomed a stepfather into his life long ago, too? He would have been 14 when Mommy was born, so maybe a little closer to Kevin's age (11 as of last January) when Grandmama and Grandpapa had been married. Assuming they ever were. Had Uncle Denzel had to adjust to living with any stepsiblings too? Or had he been the only one?

They stopped in front of the last door in the hallway. Streaks of its paint were chipping off, but Uncle Denzel gestured to it proudly nonetheless.

"This is the room I used when I was your age, Kevin. Back before I graduated college with a low-paying teacher's assistant position and was forced to move back in with Mother to survive, that is. Of course, by then Mother had rented out my room, and her kooky father moved in with us not too long after that, so I had to carve out space above the garage, and there I've been ever since. But since Grampy's left us now, this room's all yours." He continued his mutterings as he fumbled with the doorknob. "Well, here you are. This room has everything a growing boy could want. A bathroom next door, a hamper for your dirty clothes, a lamp for your lamp needs… Ooh, and there's a closet for hanging up all your clean shirts! I need to get me one of those for my room."

Kevin toed one of the circle patterns in the thin carpet. "If Great-Grampy's gone, why didn't you move back into your old room before you knew I was coming?" Not that he was ungrateful. After all, there were bound to be more working electric sockets in here than above the garage. He'd be able to make good use of those.

"Ha! I like you, kiddo. You're real funtown material!" And with that, Uncle Denzel swung open the door.

Kevin really hadn't been hoping for much. In fact, as of five minutes ago, he'd set the bar pretty low, with "no game show music and no heavy nets dropping from the ceiling" being his main requirement for a comfortable place to stay. Not smelling like cat litter would be a nice bonus on the side. Obviously, he should have thought his list through a little more. His toolbox slipped from his hand.

There were boxes _everywhere_.

Stacks of them. Towers of them. Standing in his way. Piled on the bed. Shoved under the bed. Blocking half the window. Covering the dresser. Spilling from the closet. In fact, Kevin considered it a major accomplishment that he could even see all the boxes in the room, there were that many boxes in the room.

And then, before Kevin had fully processed the sheer amount of boxes there were, Uncle Denzel picked him up and chucked him into one of the shorter stacks near the bed. Shorter meaning, a Kevin and a half could have stood beside it without their eyes even reaching the top. He landed face-first in a folded quilt, the part of his brain that wasn't freaking out over the fact that his uncle had just thrown him across the room reflecting on how lucky it was that the entire box hadn't tipped from the stack with him inside.

"Have fun while I'm at the hardware store, Kevin!" Uncle Denzel called. His arms spazzed in opposite directions. _"My nephew!"_ And with that, he back-handspringed away down the hall, as happy as an oyster with a pearl. Kevin heard him tumbling merrily down the stairs, and eventually the front door slammed shut. He might have even heard the click of a key in the lock. Oh yeah. Hopefully he hadn't lost that one he'd taken from the tree. He was pretty sure he still had it in his pocket.

Kevin sighed. He climbed out of the box, then went to work pulling packing peanuts from his hair and shirt. When Girlfriend oozed around the corner and into his room, he muttered, "You know, I'm beginning to suspect that Uncle Denzel isn't a cyborg after all. No cyborg can bust a move like that."

Girlfriend stretched, then leaped into a box stuffed with scraps of felt and yarn and made herself comfortable. Despite all the junk stuffed inside the bedroom, nothing else let out the slightest peep in response, either. Hmm. Kevin glanced around, sizing up the clutter from this new angle and feeling rather a lot like he was inside a snow fort in the middle of summer. His room had a window, and since it faced west, he had a great view of the setting sun. The carpet sure looked like it was from the '70s, with flowers and rivets everywhere you turned. The walls were painted pink. Possibly from when Mommy still lived in this house, because surely if Uncle Denzel had gone off to college when she was 4 or 5, she must have used this same room once upon a time.

Or, maybe Uncle Denzel had liked pink as a child. Kevin wouldn't be fazed.

He turned a suspicious eye on Girlfriend again. "I know I heard you talk out there. And I'm not crazy, if that's what you're thinking."

The cat yawned and turned her face away.

For his first order of business, Kevin finally gave his pants a thorough check. He groaned when he found out he really _had_ wet himself outside when that fairy-catching net had dropped on his head. Okay, well, he'd just get in pajamas, then. After fetching his suitcase and pillow from their place beside the front door, he changed his clothes in the green bathroom upstairs. No way was he undressing in front of Girlfriend. Her eyes just gave him the creeps all over. Only after he'd changed did Kevin remember that Uncle Denzel had invited those three kids over to see him at 8:53ish. He stared blearily at his reflection, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. It was white, with a simple blue bear on the chest, and the pants were covered with more black bears in various sitting, standing, climbing, and fishing poses. Of all his limited options, it was probably his least embarrassing one. Now that it was already on him, he didn't really want to change back into regular clothes. Maybe those kids wouldn't mind.

His cell phone was still in his pants pocket. It hadn't been damaged, and it still had a bit of juice left. Kevin searched his room for an outlet to plug it in, but the only one he could find was wedged behind the headboard of the rumpled bed. That wouldn't be easy to get to, especially with all this clutter in the way. Kevin sat down on the only visible corner of tangerine bedcovers and nudged one of the smaller boxes with his feet.

Well. Uncle Denzel _did_ say he had an hour to kill before these mysterious stepsiblings showed up to tell him why he was a bad person for being upset about Mommy's engagement or whatever. He may as well spend the time doing something useful.

Kevin kicked his shoes into the corner. Then he checked his phone battery again, almost wishing there wasn't enough power left in it to complete a call. But there was. He searched out Mommy's contact information in his 'Recents' list and slid off the bed. As he waited for her to pick up, he started searching the room for a good place to start cleaning. Well, he'd definitely want to get the bed cleared off before he went to sleep tonight. All the rest could wait until later.

The phone went to voicemail. Kevin pulled it away from his ear in disgust, staring at the taunting little red circle on the screen that would let him hang up the call without leaving a message. Great. So not only had Mommy sent him 18 hours away to California without her, but she hadn't even bothered to keep her phone around to check up on him. She and Marvin had probably gone out to dinner or something. Maybe they'd brought Molly along too. She hadn't been sent to California. Well, at least he knew where he fell on Mommy's new list of priorities.

Kevin paced back and forth in one of the few clear areas of the room, waiting impatiently for the voicemail message to end. Girlfriend watched him through half-closed eyes. After his phone beeped, he said, "Hello? Mommy? I made it safely to Dimmsdale. I'm calling from Grandmama and Uncle Denzel's house."

Pause.

"No, I haven't met Grandmama yet. She's out playing Bingo, but she'll be back soon. I have my own room. It's great. The house is great. Uncle Denzel seems… great."

Pause again.

"I miss you." Kevin heard his voice crack, but he didn't try to stop it. "Call me soon, okay? Let me know what's going on with you. Love you, Mommy."

He ended the call and was about to return to pacing, when a glimmer of metal and a tangle of wires caught his attention. Kevin paused, one foot in the air, then swiveled over to face the box in question. It was stacked on top of another, and when he took it down, he found himself with two overstuffed boxes of buttons, switches, dials, and little lights that served no purpose except blinking at all the right times and entertaining everybody.

Maybe there were more things like this around here. Kevin raised his eyebrow and tossed his phone on the bed. More hopeful now, he hunted around the room with renewed vigor. But try as he might, he couldn't find anything else that relatively interested him. Just some rather inappropriate-looking pieces of ladies' underwear. Kevin was about to shove _that_ box in the farthest possible corner of the closet and collapse onto the floor with exaggerated gagging noises in an attempt to relieve some of his boredom, when he spotted something in the box that definitely wasn't underwear.

It was a picture frame. One of those old-fashioned ones that folds out and collapses up again, with black felt on the back of each frame and a little latch to keep the stack shut.

Kevin hesitated. Then, reaching deep inside himself for all the courage and manliness he could muster, he thrust his hand into the box of bras and lace and yanked the foldable picture frame out. The latch was just a bit of old velcro and came off easily, but Kevin groaned when he saw the pictures inside.

"Oh boy. These are all pictures of Uncle Denzel as a teenager. I reached into that box for nothing. No. Hey, wait a minute…"

There were four pictures in the folding frame. Two of them showed Uncle Denzel with his scraggly black hair sticking up in messy tufts, hunting toads or something in the creek. In the second picture, he'd toppled in and ended up soaked, a stunned expression on his face and a lily pad balanced on his head. One picture included what seemed to be a youthful version of fluffy-haired Grandmama. But Kevin squinted at the last picture in the row. The person who'd caught his eye was dressed in baggy cargo pants that Kevin wouldn't have expected to see on a little girl, mostly since she was barely more than a toddler in this picture and her shirt was off, and that kind of threw him for a second. But that was _definitely_ Denise Crocker. She had the short black curls bouncing around her ears, and the same thick-rimmed glasses she still wore today.

The picture seemed to be of a lake somewhere, with pine trees running up the distant blue hills on either side. Little Denise stood at the end of a pier with a floppy hat on her head and an enormous grin on her face, holding a worm she'd speared on a hook up for the camera to see. Grandmama must have taken this picture. Out in the lake, two men floated in a little green rowboat. One of them was obviously younger than the other, stuffed in an orange life vest and not looking too happy about it. Kevin had the feeling that the older, broad-shouldered man must be Grandpapa. So that unhappy boy in the rowboat must be Uncle Denzel.

Kevin hadn't ever seen a picture of Mommy as a kid before, and he'd definitely never seen a picture of Grandpapa either. What a great find. He propped the picture frame up on the nightstand next to his bed, tilting it so he'd be able to see the lake picture while his head was on his pillow. It looked nice there, like it belonged. Kevin had a picture just like this by his bed back home, which showed him as a toddler fascinated by the rusty old harpoons on display at the aquarium. Most kids liked the sharks or the otters or at least a _fish_ there, but Mommy swore up and down that she'd had to peel Kevin away from all the historical fishing equipment by force, and he'd cried the whole way home. The only thing that she could calm him down with was the shark's tooth necklace she'd grabbed at random from the gift shop. It was the only souvenir he owned from a trip that hadn't been to visit caves or bats or creepy old castles that held Mommy's interest way more than his own, so Kevin had been inseparable from that shark's tooth ever since. What could he say? Teeth were cool, and animal teeth were even cooler.

No one in this new picture he'd found was even holding a fish. That felt right, somehow. They made for a matching set.

Having lost interest in cleaning and not having eaten since pouring fruit snacks into his hand and praying the bus driver wouldn't notice and kick him off, Kevin wandered back into the hallway. Yep. The broken clock was still there, bearing down on him. He shivered and hurried away. Too bad he had to turn his back on it.

The upstairs wasn't very big, and Kevin wasn't expecting it to be exciting either, until he spotted a door on the other side of the stairs that he hadn't seen since Uncle Denzel had pushed him in the other direction. Actually, he hadn't even noticed it when he came this way to grab his stuff from downstairs. He stopped.

Wait a second. Where did that door go? It faced him like a rhino about to charge, king of the hallway and all it surveyed. Kevin ran a split-second review of the house's front through his head. By his calculations, the room behind that door should be right above the living room downstairs.

But there wasn't supposed to be a room there. He'd seen the building from the outside. The front of the house was too low to have an upstairs. The roof didn't go that high.

It was probably just a linen closet or some tiny bit of hall containing the ladder to the attic or whatever, but Kevin's curiosity had been piqued. He walked past the stairs and tried the knob. Locked. Well, that figured. He rattled it again. Still locked.

Dropping to the floor, he took off his glasses and brought his eye to the crack between the door and the carpet. Though, maybe he hadn't needed to. It was an awfully large crack.

He was expecting blackness, and that's what he got. Mostly. But he wasn't expecting the two blue lights across the room staring back at him like a pair of eyes.

Kevin jerked up again, fumbling with his glasses. Once they were on, he took a breath and peeked beneath the door again. Maybe he'd be able to figure out what he was looking at now.

The blue lights were still there. That was almost creepier than them _not_ being there when he looked again. There was a window on the opposite side of the room with the blinds slightly cracked, so Kevin waited two minutes for his vision to adjust to the dark. He made out some vague silhouettes of what appeared to be lamps and desktop computer monitors, but no sign of what the lights were. What a weird house.

Wait. Did those lights just… _blink?_

Rustling noises. Kevin had visited zoos and caves with Mommy enough times to know what bat wings sounded like, and that was exactly what he heard. The lights began to move. They drifted towards him as though pulled by a string. As they passed in front of the window, Kevin realized the lights weren't floating freely. They were attached to a body.

A pale-skinned, child-sized, human-shaped body suspended in the air.

Well, um. It was probably some kind of robot or drone. That had to be it. But if it was just a robot, then why would those blinking eyes look so much like–

 _"Mrrrow?"_

 _"Greeep!"_ Kevin whirled around, still in a crouch. His eyes darted left and right. At the top of the stairs sat a pale pink cat with a rosy collar around her neck.

"Oh. It's just you, Girlfriend." Kevin was more than happy to have an excuse to move away from the weird door. He crawled towards the cat, who didn't shift away. "I guess you followed me here from my room, huh?"

The cat studied him, amusement twitching in her whiskers. Cautiously, Kevin stretched out his hand. To his surprise, the cat rose to her paws and butted his palm with her head. Then she slid past him, allowing him to stroke her hairless back. It felt a lot like petting the flat bottom of a cheese grater, or maybe the inside of a really old couch, but Kevin appreciated the sentiment anyway. Especially when the back of his neck began to tingle. A chill rattled down his spine. Cold mist wafted around his feet.

Kevin didn't want to turn around. So he didn't. He continued staring through the window above the stairs. With slow hands, he scooped the friendly cat into his arms and got to his feet. "Girlfriend?" he whispered. "Is there something behind me?"

Girlfriend peered up at him with an expression like curiosity, or perhaps concern. Kevin wished he hadn't left his phone on the bed. Something about this house wasn't right. It just wasn't. Not at all. Maybe it was the sudden chill that shouldn't have come from any conveniently broken heater, or the mist curling around his ankles.

Maybe it was the pale boyish figure standing behind him. He was reflected perfectly in the black window now that the sun had set. Gray skin. Glasses. Blue eyes. An enormous hat that ended in a sharp point.

Kevin whirled. His breaths heaved through his teeth, shaking them straight to their roots and probably setting off every "about to fall out" alarm the Tooth Fairy had in her magical castle.

The door was gone. So was the figure–the ghost, or whatever it was.

Just gone.

Kevin blinked several times, knowing his glasses were still in place and that his prescription hadn't dropped twenty points in the last five minutes, but it didn't change the fact that both the figure and the door were _gone._ The checkered wallpaper was as smooth as it had ever been.

Okay. Well, that wasn't creepy. Kevin hugged the cat as he hurried down the stairs, burying his nose into her… skin flaps. "You know it too, don't you?" he mumbled. "Yes you do. You've got to. Something's going on in this house. But what is it?"

Girlfriend blinked slowly and batted at his hair. Kevin stumbled at the bottom of the stairs, but not because of her touch. He almost dropped the cat then and there. Instead, he caught himself and only switched her weight from one of his arms to the other. His eyes darted up and down the hallway.

Unlike the door or the boy, what he was looking at now didn't disappear. Kevin caught his breath. The walls in the downstairs hall had completely changed.

Just… changed!

He backed up a step, bumping into the banister. The noise that popped from his lips wasn't a squeak, but it wasn't a howl either. Kevin slapped the hand that wasn't holding the cat over his mouth.

It was undeniable. Stretching before him now, from here to the cracked-open kitchen door, were two walls now lined with pale brown and yellow bricks.

And for one split second before he blinked, Kevin swore he saw a bespectacled boy in a wool shirt and breeches sitting at the bottom of the stairs, a pointed hat covering most of his fuzzy black hair, holding a kitten in his lap that was missing both of its front legs.


	3. Everything You Bargained For

**A/N** _-_ See also, the very beginning and end of "Let Sleeper Dogs Lie"… No, seriously. This is not a drill. You gotta, bro.

(Posted September 4, 2018)

* * *

 **Everything You Bargained For**

 _Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops_

 _Friday, May 14th, 2004 - 8:36 pm_

* * *

"Ghost boy," Kevin blurted, choking on the word. The child at the bottom of the stairs (who seriously looked like he'd ridden to America on the Mayflower) had already vanished without leaving behind the faintest trace of steam. All that was left to see down there were the bricks.

Bricks.

There definitely hadn't been bricks in the hallway the first time Uncle Denzel led him through it. Had there been? Kevin racked his memory, biting his upper lip. No. No, he would have remembered bricks.

Girlfriend squirmed in his grip like a seal with an attitude, so he let her drop to the floor. Whipping around, Kevin raced back up the stairs to the upper hall. The broken grandfather clock was still hunched beneath the lone light bulb, and the mystery door on his right was still gone. No sign of the ghost boy with the kitten. Even when Kevin spun in a circle three times, constantly checking the dark window and the hall around him.

The walls. The walls were painted grassy green. Is that what they'd looked like the first time he'd come up here? Yes? No? Was he going crazy? Was that the Crocker way?

When Kevin turned around again, the hairless cat was sitting on the triangular, grilled cheese sandwich step that the stairs made as they bent back on themselves to reach the floor below. She hunched slightly into herself whenever she sat, but her eyes were as intelligent as ever.

"What's going on?" he whispered, tasting the flutter of his heart in his mouth.

"You haven't guessed yet?" asked the cat.

Guessed? Guessed what? Kevin, only breathless, shook his head. "Wh-what's the matter with this place? Why is it so weird?"

Thoughtfully, Girlfriend raised one paw to her mouth and gave it a lick. This, she rubbed over her ear. "The homes of witches are breeding grounds for stinky magic. It builds up if given time. I expected your mother would have taught you that. I hope I didn't think _too_ highly of her."

"Um. Okay." Kevin fought to keep his voice from shaking. "That door. The one that was just up here. Where does it go?"

"I saw a door once. The square blue bat child rented it out for a month. I didn't think he was here anymore." Her voice was disinterested, as though this were just another of those human things she couldn't be bothered with. It was certainly not 'just another of those human things.' Kevin didn't know where to start with that one. A) Um, what? B) Um, _what?_

He decided to push both the mystery door and the ghostly child with the two-legged kitten out of his mind for now. Girlfriend had seen them both and she didn't seem too concerned about either one, and obviously _someone_ in this household must know about the mystery room if it had been rented out once before. If there was a bat child living in there now, maybe he wasn't much of a threat. Besides, Kevin wasn't scared of bats. You couldn't be if you were raised by Denise Quinna Crocker.

But then, Girlfriend wasn't exactly a bat. And Kevin wasn't sure what to think about _her._ He said, "Are you a talking cat?"

Girlfriend chuckled with a soft _mrrow_. "Ooh, you're close, luv. I'm a korrigan. One thing by day, its opposite by night. Quite popular at parties." She made a vague circular gesture towards his face with one paw. "And, just like you, I'm not really supposed to be on this planet. Looks like we both have secrets."

"I–I don't understand."

The cat sprang onto the curve of the banister, crouching the way a gargoyle did. Her tail swished low behind her as though she planned to pounce. "A _korrigan_ , dear boy, is one of the many Fairy subspecies in the universe. Although nowadays it seems that Cupid will let just about anyone with a mutation make a name for themselves." The cat wrinkled her nose with distaste, then proceeded to smooth her crumpled whiskers with her paw. "Have you ever met a korrigan before?"

Kevin couldn't take his eyes off her muzzle. Watching it move when she spoke was, uh… weird. Like watching a foreign film with subtitles that didn't sync up to her mouth. On some level, he knew she had to be meowing. That's the way her mouth was moving, in tiny bits. But she was talking? He could understand her? He'd never been able to talk to animals before.

Boy, he should really start leaving his room more often.

He cleared his throat. "I–I don't believe I've ever met anyone like you, um… Miss…?"

"Idaho, dear." She placed her paw to her neck and made as though fluffing up an imaginary ring of fur. "Idaho Powers, but Miss Idaho will do fine."

"Who _are_ you?" he blurted. Maybe that wasn't the most polite way to phrase the question, but the house had been weird before the talking cat, and now it was getting weirder.

Miss Idaho turned her head, keeping one eye fixed on him. "I told you, I'm a korrigan. Curious creatures, and there aren't many of us left. Unattractive in the sunshine, but gorgeous so long as we keep away from natural lighting. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you've never seen one of us before. So many of us travel by bubble nowadays as opposed to finding ourselves caught in the sun while our beauty fades. Not me, of course. I am not one to follow such popular trends. _I'm_ above that."

Kevin looked the cat up and down with raised eyebrows as she patted her whiskers. She was inside now and the sun had set, so why was she still hairless and wrinkled?

"Brains," Miss Idaho snapped, sitting back on her haunches and tapping both paws to her chest. She fixed Kevin with a hard look. "I speak of the beauty of my _brains_ , dear. The universe bends her ear to the passions of a korrigan. Unlike my old-fashioned _sisters_ , I consider intelligence, not outward physical appearance, to be a person's most attractive quality. So that is what I'm forced to sacrifice outdoors."

"I didn't say anything," Kevin said, defensively raising his hands. "Intelligence, I mean, yeah. That's great. Me too. Anyone can be attracted to a pretty girl on the street, but smart girls in cat bodies are the best, right? I'm totally on board with you."

Miss Idaho sniffed and turned her head away. Her tail snapped twice like the paddle of a rowboat. "It isn't the most unpleasant life to live. Inside the Crocker household, I explore my deepest fantasies by developing online fellowships and otherwise living in secret as the most brilliant of philosophers in this entire dirty town. I am beyond your Socrates and Aristotle. I am beyond Jay Rhoswen and Anti-Kahnii. _Yet,_ in the cruel sunlight, I am not but a babbling airhead. Even now, one wrong move, and I revert to nothing but the _unintelligent_ form I was forced to maintain during the time your uncle and I were dating _."_ Disgust dribbled from her voice like drool. One paw clenched into something like a fist.

Briefly, Kevin wondered if he wondered if confidence was another trait that Miss Idaho held dear. After all, her arrogance oozed from every nonexistent hair on her body. Maybe she was always like that, or maybe that was just what being inside all day without a lot of social interaction did to her. Privately, he hoped it was the former option, because then he didn't feel so bad about finding her an annoying show-off.

But that thought only passed through his head briefly, because he couldn't ignore the end of her monologue. Kevin dropped his hands, pressing his palms flat behind him. He stared at the cat, his lips parted, until finally he asked, "You and my uncle actually _dated?"_ Geez, maybe she was _supposed_ to have all those wrinkles.

"After he caught me unawares in my daylight form and confused me for a human," she sneered, as though this meant it didn't count, and as though it didn't mean his uncle had DATED A REAL ACTUAL MAGICAL PERSON. _"I_ don't _poof_ when I travel. _Poof_ ing is for sheep who follow trends. I walk."

"Why did you pick _him?"_ Kevin asked, carefully NOT saying, _Why did he pick **you?**_

Miss Idaho paused, one forepaw hovering before her mouth. Her tongue was still out, about to lick its back. She seemed to frown with her muzzle, and then turned her blue gaze on Kevin once again. "He's charming. And whether I am in my airheaded form or my intelligent one, I love him. Not enough to intentionally surrender my intelligence for vulnerability, but I love him enough to stay here."

Kevin stifled a snicker at the thought of mushy old people romance. His fingers curled around a peeling scrap of wallpaper behind him. "Does Uncle Denzel know about this? That you only look like a cat indoors, and you look human outside? He's really never seen you switch from one place or the other before?"

"The curse of the korrigan takes a matter of minutes to wear off between the two locations," Miss Idaho explained, with boredom drizzling every word. "The majority of our dates were picnics all those years ago. I am very careful regarding those I reveal myself to."

"Are you going to hurt me?" Kevin asked, keeping his back against the wall.

Miss Idaho eyed him up and down as though she were considering it, then stretched out on her belly. One forepaw dangled from the banister. "No, dear. You're safe with me. Consider me something of a guardian angel, not an enemy."

His shoulders did not relax. "Are you an angel, Miss Idaho?"

"No, dear. I'm just a type of a Fairy easily forgotten by the myths of your day. Do try to keep up."

"Oh." He frowned. "So if a korrigan is a subspecies of Fairy, can you use magic and stuff? I mean, besides the shapeshifting in the sunlight thing?"

"It's overrated. I allowed my license to expire millennia ago." She yawned. "I don't even keep a wand anymore."

That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, and Kevin hesitated. "Are you the one who changed the walls?"

"I am not."

Kevin glanced up at the green walls once again. "I don't understand. Why do the walls keep changing? What happened to that door?"

The cat tipped her head to one side. "This house lives on through the sweat and tears of witches, dear. It's lived here ever since 1665, just like the Crocker family. The women in your line never moved around much until your mother came along. So I've heard, anyway… I didn't meet your uncle until his sophomore college year. Only met your mother once or twice during the time he and I were dating. Charming girl. By the way, you're welcome."

"Huh? I mean, what do you mean, ma'am?"

"Mm. It's incredible what heartbreak can do to a soul, isn't it? And it may have even saved you. Once your uncle, ah, _put me out_ of his life, as it were, I found myself free to keep tabs on your mother throughout her travels. In my sunlight disguise, I was her landlord when she first stumbled into Peachfield pregnant with you. You could say the state of Idaho is sort of…" She studied her claws, then flicked away a piece of lint. "… an extension of my territory. I kept an eye on the poor girl until she could stand for herself. Elliot never was good enough for her, you know. Filthy rich in secret and your mother never saw a dime."

Kevin crinkled his brow. "What are you saying?"

"Your pa's a sleazeball, luv. Couldn't count his positive qualities on a paw and a half."

"No, no!" Kevin covered his ears. "I figured that already! I meant, about the thing that sounded magic. You said the Crocker family are _witches_. What does that even mean? Does that mean you're not the only one here who's magic? My Uncle Denzel and Grandmama are magic? And Mommy too?"

 _I'm magic?_

Miss Idaho reached for Kevin's hand and guided it gently to her head for scratchies. "You're a witch too, honey. Everyone in your family is, although your powers are latent and sparse when you're this far removed from your magical ancestor. You haven't guessed? No, I suppose not. After all, you haven't known your uncle long enough to question if he really floats on air, and you spent nine of your eleven years in an apartment your mother was the first to rent. That's hardly enough time for significant stinky magic buildup. You wouldn't have noticed anything as strange as this in your own house."

The hairs trembled on the back of his neck. "What? Everyone in my family? Including me? No, I'm not a witch."

"Oh, but you must be. You see, I only talk to witches, and only when I want to. Ask your grandmother."

Kevin bit his lip. "But–but magic isn't real. I'm going to be a scientist who builds robot friends and babysitters. And before I do that, I'm going to be a dentist until I can support myself on my robots alone. I can't be a witch!"

The cat winked. "Sure, hon. And I can't be a korrigan who broke Da Rules by falling in love with a crazy Fairy-hunting human. Guess we're both a bit insane."

She slipped between his arms like silk, glided through two of the banister bars, and dropped to the floor below. By the time Kevin reached the bottom hall, which was still lined with pale brown and yellow bricks, Miss Idaho had disappeared.

Kevin shivered. There were too many mysteries to unpack here in just one night. What a strange house. He kept his eye out for Miss Idaho as he made his way through the brick passageway, but the only sign of life he noticed was Grandmama's black cat, Smokey, who vanished under the couch without making a sound.

Against all his expectations, Kevin found the kitchen exactly where Uncle Denzel had showed him earlier. There were even working lights in there, although Kevin almost would have preferred not to see the grime and peeling paint. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes. Knives had casually been left out by the cutting board. The brightest thing in the whole room was the sickly-looking orange fridge. Everything else came in one of two shades of brown.

After a quick check through several drawers and cupboards, more out of curiosity than because he planned to eat the first thing he found, Kevin turned his attention to the fridge. There wasn't much in there but some shredded cheese, spaghetti sauce, a half-used roll of cookie dough, and a pot of beans way in the back that he could smell even from here. He picked up some deli meat, but it was just starting to grow mold, so he threw it out. The same went for the strawberries.

At least the grapes looked okay. Kevin pulled out the bag, then grabbed the cookie dough as an afterthought and hunted around the kitchen for bread. He didn't turn up anything for sandwiches, but there were some barbecue chips on a paper plate by the toaster, so that was something. Combine those with the grapes and the cookies in the living room, and he'd be able to get by until Grandmama came home. Maybe she'd bring back pizza. Pizza sounded good.

He turned around, and stopped short. The kitchen walls had been brown when he first came in. Kevin had made sure of it. Now they were tiled white, the backsplash behind the stove china blue and prettied up with flowers. Also, the ghost boy with the hat and the kitten was back, so that was a thing. He sat in a chair at the kitchen table. Looking at Kevin, his eyes enormous behind his thick glasses. Just waiting. His fingers were long, and his nails made them so much longer. His hair was poofy. His black shirt was definitely woolen, with a little lace collar around the neck. And he was just sitting there, waiting for something to happen.

Three doors led out of the kitchen. One to the hall where he'd come from. One in the back to the dining room. One out to the garage. Kevin glanced at each one of them, sending out a silent plea for Miss Idaho to appear. She did not.

"Um." Kevin looked again at the table. "Do you want to share my–?"

The words died in midair. The boy had disappeared again. Well, that did seem like something he would do. But the kitten was still there, sitting on the chair as though it did this every day. Funny. It didn't look much like a ghost kitten. It wasn't glowing or anything. But somehow, even so, Kevin knew that it wasn't supposed to be there. Call it a hunch, maybe. The other objects in the kitchen gave off a certain, well, _energy_ that proved they were just as real when he could see them as they gave off in the dark and he was picking his way through a room by touch alone. The kitten was a blip. Something he couldn't detect. An empty space. Even when it rustled around on the chair, and even when it jumped to the floor, it didn't make a sound.

"Miss Idaho?" Kevin asked, very loudly. He kept his back against the counter. Even louder this time, "Miss Idaho? Can you come in here? Like, now?"

He was answered by the patter of running paws. Miss Idaho appeared like a pink shadow in the corner of his eye. If she'd had fur, it would have been bushed. Her tail stood straight out behind her.

"Yes? What is it? Is something wrong, dear?"

Kevin swallowed. "There's, um, a kitten. Over there. Help."

Miss Idaho said nothing. She stood there, her ears pricked forward, her back arched. Kevin waited for her to attack the kitten, or talk to it, or make it go away somehow. But the longer he waited, the tighter his nerves squeezed together.

"I see nothing," Miss Idaho finally said. Her spine flattened. She wound herself around his legs, butting the backs of his knees with her head. A dull purr thrummed in the back of her throat. "You're restless. Get some sleep."

"But there's a kitten." There was still a kitten sitting sadly in the middle of the kitchen floor. Kevin refused to take his eyes off it. Even when he blinked, he made sure he did so by winking just one eye at a time. He didn't want it to disappear when he looked away like the ghost boy had. The plate of chips felt worthless in his hand.

"It's an old house lived in by generations of witches over the last three hundred years." She was very firm. "You are a Crocker, and you've as much right to live in it as any of the bloodline. The house knows this."

"It does?"

Miss Idaho twitched her ears. "Stinky magic is a tricky thing. Once it builds, it permeates objects and even entire buildings if one allows it to. If you have seen something that clearly does not belong, then the house must have chosen to share one of its memories with you. You're seeing a memory of what once was. That is all."

Oh, sure. _That was all._ Run along now, kid. The grown-ups are busy talking.

"You mean, you really can't see it?" This news did not make the thought of the ghost boy any less disturbing.

"No, dear."

He watched the two-legged kitten push itself clumsily across the tile in the direction of the dining room. "Um. So, can you not see it because you're a korrigan thing?"

"Perhaps," she said with more than a drop of skepticism. "Although were I to guess, I would say the real reason it's undetectable is because the house doesn't care for me. You're a Crocker. Your family gave it life. It knows you as its master and it seeks your kind affections. I'm nothing to it but a cat."

Kevin's breathing grew faster. "You mean the house really _is_ alive? You–you weren't just saying that to be poetic back there?"

Miss Idaho shook her head. Although she made no attempt to chase the kitten off, she sat between Kevin's feet and began to groom her ears again. "You see, Fairy magic and a witch's magic are two very different things. Fairy magic is a tool. It is gathered from the energy field around us, filtered through the Big Wand in Fairy World, and purified with sacred rosewater contained in the cap of a Fairy wand. A witch's magic is different. A witch's magic is no tool. It's a _companion_. It's alive inside your mind and in your heart. You have witch's magic deep inside you, however watered-down it may be, because one of your ancestors was a magical creature."

"Oh. Um. Okay then. Is that really how it works? Ma'am?"

"Certainly. These things happen from time to time. Though I can confirm your ancestry isn't _Fairy._ " She sniffed. Her crooked whiskers twitched. "This house has witch's magic deep inside its woodwork because so many witches have lived within its walls for so long. Of course, whether the magic allows itself to be used in any meaningful way is its decision alone. So if one is being technical, it is not the house itself which is communicating with you, but the old and forgotten magic which lives within its walls. That's what seeks your attention. It hopes to greet you. Humor it if you wish, or don't. It makes no difference to me."

The kitten vanished into the dining room. Kevin collapsed, drained, against the counter. "Phew. It's gone."

"Oh, don't be frightened." Miss Idaho's voice turned disinterested again. "A memory can't hurt you, luv. Unlike a ghost, it can't touch you."

Kevin was almost positive she could have found a less terrifying way to tell him that. He swallowed thickly. "But it's weird!"

Miss Idaho sighed. "The magic that lives here is only trying to welcome you in the best way it knows how." With that, she rose to her paws and trotted off to wherever magical cats go after sunset. Maybe the litter box, or maybe the toilet. Maybe she had a blog in desperate need of updating.

"Wait," Kevin called after her, reaching with his hand. Miss Idaho stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Um." Kevin closed his fist. "All that stuff you said just now. About Crockers being witches, all the way down to me. I never knew I was one. What does it all mean? Are you here to teach me all of this? Can I use witchcraft, or magic, or something like that?"

Miss Idaho looked him up and down, as though he were a very interesting cheesecake on a dessert cart, and she happened to despise cheesecake. "What? A good dozen or so generations removed from your magical ancestor? You must be joking. Dear, your uncle possesses the power of levitation. But only in very short bursts, and never of his own volition. His abilities are thinner than ice, and you come a generation later, so frankly, I'd be amazed if you could manage even that. The only witch power I imagine you might show is living beyond age 100."

And seeing ghostly memories floating around the house, though she didn't mention that.

"Then–Then what's the point of telling me the Crockers are witches at all?" He tried to keep the whining from his voice, and probably didn't succeed.

"It's your heritage," Miss Idaho said simply. "I don't make the rules. You're an Idaho-born child, and I happen to like Idaho. Maybe that's why."

She bounded off again. Kevin shook his head. _Cats!_ Even when they were trying to be helpful, they just couldn't give anyone anywhere a straight answer, could they? Even when they were magical creatures.

Oh well. Back to business, then. Reluctant to sit in the same chair as the ghost boy (or the memory boy, or whatever it was), he instead sat on the floor and started eating what he had.

Then the doorbell rang. The batteries sounded all but dead. Kevin looked up, his mouth stuffed with cold cookie dough. What? Had he been in the house a whole hour already? Were those the three stepsiblings Uncle Denzel had called to visit him? Kevin wrapped the cookie dough up again and shoved it somewhere in the fridge, trying not to knock over all the half-empty containers of ketchup and mayonnaise. On his way to the door, he grabbed the china plate with all the cookies. Since the lights in the living room were out of commission, maybe the stepsiblings wouldn't mind hanging out with him outside as long as he brought them something to eat.

A small smile pressed at his lips. _Hanging out._

Kevin opened the door. Yes, indeed, there were three kids about his age on the other side. Two of them—one girl, one boy—had blonde hair and blue eyes. The girl's hair was in a ponytail, and she had a skeptical but curious smile plastered across her face. The blond boy hung back on the step and sucked on a grape popsicle. The second boy was dressed identical to the first. White shirt. Unzipped purple jacket. Semi-circle sunglasses halfway down his nose, even though the sun had set. But unlike the other two kids, this second boy had rather dark skin and even darker hair.

Kevin narrowed his eyes, his smile slightly fading. The second boy had a friendly air about him, but the first one kept aloof and refused to look up. The girl seemed halfway between. Although he normally tried to avoid slapping stereotypes on people, Kevin felt he deserved a pass on this one. The _too-cool-to-really-want-to-bother-with-somebody-like-you_ aura around them was so thick, it could've been sliced in half with a piece of bread. "Hmm," Kevin said. "Now, let's see if I can guess which one of you is the stepsibling."

"She is," both boys said together, jabbing their thumbs at the ponytailed girl in the cheerleading outfit, and they cracked up in unison like animatronic dolls on a toy store shelf. The girl rolled her eyes, having obviously heard that joke a hundred times by this point in her life already. The boy with the black hair wiped away an imaginary tear. He took his jacket in two fists and gave it a tug.

"No, seriously, we kid. I'm Chad. He's Tad, she's Veronica. See, they're twins, and my mom married their dad like six years after they were born. I was five and a half."

Tad stepped forward, popping his popsicle from his mouth. He had grape droplets all around his lips. Not seeming to notice this, he wiggled his pinky in front of Kevin's nose. "Yep. That's about how it went down. And get this: When they got married, our parents got me and Chad both pinky rings to match the actual ones they traded at the wedding. We haven't been apart since. Aren't these just the coolest?"

"Boy, I'm sure glad that's not weird," Kevin mumbled to himself.

"Yeah, so." That was Veronica, flapping her own (ringless) hand to the side. "We're the Guildfords. We totally like, all live together on the other side of town and everything."

 _Other_ was emphasized. Kevin couldn't miss their calculating eyes tearing him apart and piecing him together again. Especially his pajamas–he was sure of it. Stupid old bears. Shouldn't have changed out of his clothes. His feet curled, toes clenching the front step. "Do you guys want cookies?" he asked, offering the plate.

Chad picked up three, then stopped. "Oh," he said. He let the cookies drop back down. "White chocolate macadamia. No thanks. We only eat good chocolate, or snickerdoodles."

"Really?" Kevin perked up at once. "Oh boy! In that case, come on in! My Grandmama has snickerdoodle dough in the fridge, and I heard she's supposed to be the best cookie baker in the whole city. She'll be home real soon, and when she gets here, she can show us how she makes them."

Tad stifled a laugh. He slipped his popsicle from his mouth again. "Yeah. See, actually, my dad owns the Sundown Bakery, and we're rich, so… Yeah. I don't think that's accurate."

"Oh."

"I'd like a cookie," Veronica said, holding out her arm. She didn't pick one up. Slightly confused, Kevin put one in her hand. She also didn't eat it.

"So?" Chad cracked his knuckles. "You're the Crocker kid. He said you were, what, like his nephew or something?"

"Oh. I'm Kevin. I'm from Peachfield, Idaho. I'm just staying here for the summer while my mom and future stepdad get as much work done as they can on their wedding plans." Kevin realized then that he was holding the cookie plate in his right hand, so he shifted it to his left and held his hand out for a shake. Chad took it and gave it two pats, with Tad following suit with stickier fingers and tangible reluctance. Veronica smiled thinly when Kevin turned to her, firmly keeping the cookie in her hand where it was.

"Um…" Kevin bounced on his toes. Not wanting to leave the door open and allow bugs inside, and since the three kids obviously weren't planning to come in anytime soon, he set the plate down, stepped out, and pulled the door shut. "So I guess you know my uncle. He said he teaches at the school you guys go to. Are you in his class?"

In unison, Tad and Chad snorted. "That class?" Tad asked, twirling a finger around his popsicle stick. "Yeah right. He wishes. We're in a whole other hall. You know. The one that doesn't always have stick figure fairies and barely acceptable mental health evaluations covering the board outside."

All three of them laughed at this, Veronica half a step behind. Kevin swallowed his irritation at the backhanded way they mocked his uncle. Sure, the guy seemed a little off his rocker… a little… but he had to be a good teacher, or else he would've gotten fired by now. Right? He said, "Well, I'll be going to school at Dimmsdale Elementary to finish off this year. When does your class have lunch? Maybe on Monday, we could meet up and you could show me around."

Chad glanced down at his watch. Then he nudged Tad with his elbow. "Speaking of food, we need to get going."

Tad's eyes cleared. "Right! The pizza. Hey, Kenneth, have you eaten yet?"

"Actually my name's Kevin, but no."

"Sweet." Chad tilted his head in the direction of the road. "Come hang with us tonight so we can get a good look at you out on the town. Cool? Thought so."

The three stepsiblings began to move away, as though an agreement had been reached and there weren't any questions to be asked. Kevin hesitated. His shoes were still upstairs in his room. So were his socks. Socks were stupid, but still.

Tad glanced back over his shoulder. "Hey. You coming or what, dude?"

"Uh…"

"Sure he is," Veronica said, setting one hand to her hip. She still hadn't tried the cookie. When Kevin didn't move, both her eyebrows bent up. "Well? Aren't you?"

Kevin's bare toes squeezed the front step. The stepsiblings moved again. One second later, he was flying after them. "Right behind you!"

After all, Uncle Denzel had invited these kids over so Kevin could get to know them, right? And how could he get to know them if he stayed cooped up in the spooky house all day? Surely if Uncle Denzel and Grandmama couldn't find him, they'd figure he just went out to explore for a little while. He'd found his way to their address without their help before, and he could do it again if he had to.

"Hey! So, if you guys aren't in my uncle's class then, um, who teaches you?"

Veronica glanced at him sideways. "Us?"

"Well, we used to be in Mrs. Shickadance's homeroom," Chad reflected, his voice trailing off. He looked right at Kevin. "That is, until Mr. Cuddles got his grubby paws on her. After that, she was never seen again."

Kevin blinked, struggling not to shift to the opposite side of the sidewalk. He couldn't help it. "Wh-who is Mr. Cuddles?"

Chad's smirk widened. He nodded in a knowing way, his eyes wandering to the sky. His hands slipped inside his jacket pockets. "Some say Mr. Cuddles crawled out of the fiery furnaces deep inside the earth and across the land of the dead. Others say he mutated from a nuclear power plant meltdown back in the 1600s. Me? Well, I don't have any proof to show you, but you know what? I really think he's a Beast."

"A Beast," Kevin breathed. "You mean like the ones that were driven underground back in the early 1800s?"

"Yup. Ever heard of Kevin Bitterroot?"

Kevin shook his head. Chad looked more than a little surprised, but went on with his story anyway.

"Well then! See, Bitterroot was the Elias Muckle of Dimmsdale. You do know Elias Muckle, don't you?"

"The guy from Muckledunk? Of course! He was the most famous Creature hunter in the world, until Danny Phantom came along. He chased away more Beasts than anybody."

Chad glanced left, then right. He lowered his voice. "They say Bitterroot alone is responsible for the deaths of all the Beasts in Mr. Cuddles' family. Most Beasts live for centuries, you know, so hey–it could happen. Mr. Cuddles had kids once upon a time, you know. Baby bunnies. Black ones, white ones, blue ones, red ones. Spotted ones and striped ones. Some that wore hats, and some that wore glasses. And Bitterroot took his gun one night and shot them all dead in the street. _Blam! Blam! Blam!_ He shot Mr. Cuddles' parents too, and every cousin, sibling, and stepsibling he had."

"No!"

"Mmhm. Bitterroot would have gotten Mr. Cuddles himself too, if Mr. Cuddles hadn't woken up and _dived_ out of the way just in time." Chad made a diving motion with his hand. "Bitterroot only shot him through the foot. The bullet's still in there to this day, slowing him down like a thorn in a lion's paw. On moonless nights, you can still hear him prowling the neighborhood. His breath stinks of rotting cabbage and fermented shark. His one bad foot drags behind him the whole way. But mostly, if you're lying warm and snug inside your bed at night, where you think you're safe, you can hear him speaking between his pants and growls. _'Kevin… Kevin…'"_

Kevin shivered despite himself. Sure, a massive bunny monster sounded insane, but after the evening he'd just had? If Tad had told him the school janitors were secret unicorns, he'd believe it in a heartbeat. "S-so what happened to the Shickadances?"

Furry paws grabbed his neck from behind. Kevin shrieked and spun around, only to find Tad doubled over in laughter, holding fluffy mittens over his cheeks. "Mr. Cuddles devoured them alive!" Chad shouted, cracking up himself.

Kevin's cheeks burned. He brushed his hands down his shirt. "Oh, haha! We're picking on the new kid today. I see how it is. You guys are just playing a game with me, aren't you?"

"Nope, all true," Veronica insisted, doing that hand-on-hip thing again. "Well, yeah. Except for the Kevin part. We changed that bit up. Like, just ask your uncle about Mrs. Shickadance. He was at school the day she disappeared, and he swears it's true."

Kevin gulped, not wanting to believe her but unable to stop himself. The arches of his feet trembled in their middles. "S-so was there ever really a Kevin Bitterroot? I sort of like that name."

Tad shrugged. He returned the mittens to his pocket. "I dunno. Maybe. We had an Alden Bitterroot in Dimmsdale way back when the town was founded. Maybe there was a Kevin too."

Chad tapped his chin with two fingers. "Hey. Yeah, that's right. Hey Tad, isn't Bitterroot one of Crockjob's ancestors or something? I think that'd make him one of this kid's ancestors too."

Kevin did not miss the fact that when Chad hooked a thumb at him, he was still speaking to his stepbrother and did not use the word "your." Still, he perked up at this thread of family history Mommy had never mentioned before. "Really? Wow, that's amazing! How do you cool dawgs know about this Alden guy? Do you have like a section in your library about the early years of Dimmsdale?"

"Sure," Tad said, at the same time Chad said, "Please never say 'cool dawgs' again in your life." "The well he fell down is still standing in this town." Tad shielded his eyes despite the dark and squinted at the pencil-shaped office building in the distance. "I think it's way, way over there someplace."

Kevin tilted his head. "Huh. Those are weird words to say. Alden fell in a well?"

"Yeah," Veronica chirped behind him. "Our whole town is like, named after Dale Dimm, the totally famous witch-hunter who disposed of Alden for good."

Kevin stopped walking. Veronica bumped into him and dropped her cookie. It broke into thirds. "What? A witch-hunter? You mean, Alden Bitterroot was a witch too?"

Tad shot Kevin a smirk. "'Too?'"

"Uh… uh…" Kevin's eyes darted in a circle. He stepped back, his heel coming down on Veronica's shoe. He stumbled away. Oh. Okay. Um. So the fact that the Crocker family were apparently witches with some magic ancestor 12 generations ago or something wasn't actually common knowledge? And Dimmsdale just so happened to be named after its beloved witch-hunter? And maybe there were still witch-hunters living in the town today who would want to run him into the ground and stick his head on a spit?

Veronica stepped around Kevin, pursing her lips. She lifted one hand to her ear. "You know, they say that if you're ever like, standing around Alden's wishing well late at night when it's quiet and you listen real closely, you can like, still totally hear the history. Alden never died when he splashed at the bottom, and he's like, been trying to claw his way out again ever since. When you think you hear the wind rattling through the tree branches, it could be Alden screaming for somebody to help him out again. Like, witches live for centuries just like Beasts, so he could totally still be just chilling down there today."

"Oh. Witches live for centuries?"

"If he's not a witch anymore, then he's a zombie now, so yes," Tad said cheerfully.

Chad slapped Kevin on the back and started down the sidewalk. "Anyway, come on, Crock-kid. We're hitting Shirley's for some pizza. He stays open late on Friday nights. See, we've got someone else we wanna introduce you too, and she's already waiting for us."

Kevin didn't miss Veronica's hands clenching into sudden fists. At that, Tad let out a dreamy sigh. His bare popsicle stick almost fell to the ground.

"Trixie Tang…"

With a snort, Chad smacked his stepbrother upside the head. "Yeah, you _wish_ she was still into you, loverboy. Don't embarrass yourself and let me do the talking this time."

Tad stuck out his tongue. "You just don't get my style, ding-dong. I'm playing the long game."

"You're playing the pathetic puppy dog game, is what that is. 'Oh Trixie, oh _Trixie_.'" Chad shoved him with both hands. "She has a boyfriend who straight-up hops the border for her, knucklehead. Get over yourself."

"It won't last," was Tad's stubborn reply.

"Doofus."

"Nerd."

"Blockhead."

"Dweeb."

For his part, Kevin fell into step beside the silent Veronica, wondering what kind of name for a pizza restaurant owner was "Shirley."

* * *

 **A/N** \- … Okay, in my defense, Girlfriend was confirmed sentient at the end of "Viral Videots" and magical Miss Idaho was just _handed_ to me.


	4. The Pizza Place Where Worlds Collide

(Posted December 4, 2018)

 **The Pizza Place Where Worlds Collide**

 _Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops_

 _Friday, May 14th, 2004 - 9:16 pm_

* * *

If Tad and Chad were the knights of popularity, sweeping back and forth across the chessboard of human relationships in flip-flopping patterns and unpredictable bounces until they closed in on a target who had never seen them coming, then Veronica was the bishop whose motive was clear. And if Veronica was the bishop of the chessboard, then Trixie Tang was the empress who owned the game and kept it out on display in her dainty little sitting room with all the pieces set out exactly where she wanted them.

That's what Kevin decided when Chad introduced him to the black-haired, blue-eyed girl outside Shirley's Original Pizzeria. She wore a pink turtleneck, even though it was May and California nights were much warmer than the ones he knew in Idaho. It shouldn't have worked with her short white skirt, but somehow, Trixie made the mismatch make total sense, and look great too. The short sleeves probably helped with that. Kevin didn't normally consider himself the kind of boy who had started liking girls yet, but approaching Trixie suddenly made him feel shy. Especially in his stupid old bear pajamas. I mean, here was this pretty girl coming out of her way to meet him for pizza and welcome him to town, and he hadn't even dressed up. Whoopsie. Well, if they ever grew up and got married, someday they would look back on this and laugh.

He had always been the tallest kid in his grade by far. One look at Trixie told him she had grown up under the same label. She fit snugly in her position and wouldn't take kindly to being booted out of it now that Kevin had come to town. When she shook his hand, she had to tilt back her head to meet his eyes. Kevin could tell instantly that this minor detail landed him on her blacklist for life. And having a sweaty palm when they shook hands like grown-ups probably didn't do him any favors.

"You're staying with your uncle for the summer?" she asked after the greetings were exchanged. She flicked most of her hair behind one shoulder. She'd tied it in a low ponytail, but loosely. It looked nice, all silky without a hint of frizz.

"Um." Kevin redirected his attention from her earrings to her face. "Yeah, just 'til August. I'd never met my Uncle Denzel before now."

Trixie bobbed her head, her eyes partly glazed with absentminded thought. She drummed her fingers on her leg. "Mr. Crocker said you like robots." (She pronounced it _Crocker,_ like it was the name of a fancy shampoo.) "If all goes well for you today, we'll have to get together sometime and see what you can do."

Kevin blinked. "Wait. You mean, you actually _want_ to talk to me?" Yeah, the cool kids in town had invited him to hang out, but… Well, Kevin had just assumed he was so lame, they wouldn't actually go through with it. Maybe his uncle had bribed them or something.

"Sure." Trixie twirled a few strands of hair around her finger, glancing up at the stars. She frowned. "It's all part of our responsibility as popular kids."

… What was that supposed to mean?

Tad opened the door to Shirley's and waved the rest of them in with a grand flourish, as though welcoming them to a prince's ball. Trixie paid him no attention further than a slight nod, but he pumped his fist in a silent "Yes!" anyway. Veronica followed her lead (to considerably less fanfare). Kevin followed too, but with his smile straining.

At the last second, he started to turn back and say thanks, but kept walking and bumped into someone who suddenly appeared in front of him as though from thin air. Cardboard dug into his stomach. "Oof," he grunted. Looking down, Kevin found himself face to face with a scruffy redheaded boy about eight years old, or maybe a little younger. Much too young to be buying pizza by himself. Huh? Who belonged to this kid?

"I'm sorry," Kevin stammered out, even though the pizza boxes didn't even look dented. He brushed off his shirt, trying not to make it obvious he was shaking away crumbs and potential globs of sauce.

The redheaded boy only smiled. "It happens." He shrugged, adjusting his grip on the box. "Happens a lot." With a hum in his voice and a spring in his step, he brushed past Kevin and headed not for the main door, but for a nearby archway lined with glittering rainbow crystals that shimmered and shone.

Wait, what? Kevin blinked. He stepped out onto the sidewalk again. Tad watched in faintly repressed amusement, still holding the glass door with his fingertips. After several puzzled seconds, Kevin came back in to study the bejeweled arch up close.

There was no denying it. The arch took up space along the exact same wall of the restaurant the main entrance did, but it didn't seem to lead to a dining area or anything. Only to a long hallway that ended in wavy shadows. A hallway that _shouldn't have been there,_ because outside the building, _it_ _didn't exist._

"What?" Kevin moved his finger in the air back and forth, back and forth. "There's no wall there."

Chad lifted his shoulders in a shrug, a guilty smirk smeared across his face. Tad muffled a snort, and Veronica scoffed. Trixie merely shook her head and turned her back. Um. Okay then. Pressing his middle finger against the bridge of his glasses, Kevin stole a moment to examine the details of his new surroundings–his actual physical surroundings that obeyed the laws of reality. _Lots of bricks,_ he thought in annoyance. Weren't bricks a little old-fashioned by now? It was 2004. Get with the times.

Shirley's turned out to be a lot bigger on the inside than he'd thought it would be. First things first, there was the front… desk podium. Register. Place. A pretty girl with braided hair offered everyone hand sanitizer and cheap slap bracelets with the words _C.P. ACTIVE_ stamped across them in bold red text. Trixie and Veronica took theirs without hesitation (much to Kevin's surprise, since the bracelets didn't exactly look fashionable). But when Chad grabbed three more and offered one to Kevin, he didn't say no. He turned it over in his hands, squinting at the writing. The bracelet itself sparkled like an emerald in a dishwasher, even though the restaurant lights were dimmed down. It looked a little weird, like it bent in a direction it wasn't supposed to, or something. "Wow, photorealistic much?" he muttered, patting it against his palm.

Then he looked up. Tad and Chad were grinning. Veronica leaned slightly forward, her hands wrapped in the hem of her sweater. Even Trixie's careless attention fluttered across his face. Kevin shifted his eyes between them, tightening his fingers around the slap bracelet.

"Why are you all staring at me?"

"So…" Chad tilted down his shades. "How do you feel?"

"… Fine, I guess. This'll be great. I'm starved, and it was swell of you guys to invite me out."

Swell? Did people even say 'swell' anymore?

Tad stretched his arms towards the ceiling, sending his blue bracelet sliding almost to his elbow. "Me, I feel like I could sprint to Brightburg in ten minutes flat."

Veronica bobbed her head. "I could scale a skyscraper in four."

"I could get crushed by a piano and crawl out without a single broken bone in my body," Chad insisted.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, that's kind of how it works."

Kevin glanced between them, the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. Boy, his sense of humor had fallen out of touch. He couldn't even understand what they were talking about. Maybe he'd been spending too much time alone with his projects after all. With a shrug, he slapped his bracelet across his wrist. At least it was green. Green was a nice color.

The bracelet lit like a flashlight when it wrapped tight. Instantly, his wrist dropped like he'd strapped it to a rock. His knuckles smacked against his leg. Kevin stared at his forearm, not… really registering what had just happened. What? Was that his hand? His arm had gone tingly all the way up to his shoulder. When he moved his fingers, he could see them curling, but he couldn't _feel_ them.

"Whoa," he mumbled. He tilted his head, cradling his ear in his palm. "I don't feel so good…"

He started to slump backwards, but Tad caught him beneath the arms and boosted him onto his feet again. Kevin shook his wrist, and his entire arm flapped in a boneless way that was probably normal, but definitely looked weird. He squinted at his bracelet. "Uh… I guess my weird allergies are acting up. What's this thing made of?"

Tad pursed his lips, stepping in front of him. "30% rectanathre, I think?"

"What?" Kevin snapped his head around. Literally everybody knew the street name for _that_ one. He clapped a hand over his mouth; it smacked like a rubber glove. "You gave me _cartoon physics?_ Like, 30% _straight_ cartoon physics? Are you serious? Mommy's gonna take my soldering iron if she finds out I'm doing drugs!" He'd only been in town for a few hours, and he was already making rebellious choices. Kevin sagged on Veronica's shoulder with a mumble of, "I'm gonna pass out."

"Ew, hey!" Veronica shoved him off and took a step closer to Trixie. Kevin lurched the other way. Clucking his tongue, Chad took hold of his shoulder and made a flat line with his other hand.

"Dude, be chill. These things've been legal in Dimmsdale since 2002. Now, if you wanna hang with us tonight, you're gonna have to wear it. Safety first, y'know? You can't exist outside this universe without it. I mean, you can _try_ , but that never ends well."

"Beats Leo's harness," Tad said cheerfully.

Kevin glanced at them both. He glanced at his wrist. Then at Trixie. All the cool kids were all waiting for him, balanced expectantly on the tips of their toes. And Kevin didn't doubt for a second they'd ditch him if he didn't want to play by their rules. They had other options. Kevin bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut at the same time, and didn't say anything else.

Shirley's, as it turned out, was actually divided into separate dining areas that ringed the central buffet like spokes on a wagon wheel. Each room could be accessed through a different decorated archway, and to Kevin's amazement, the restaurant buzzed with activity even this late in the evening. A tall boy with an impressive cowlick sketched an intricate beach scene across an old-fashioned chalkboard that listed the specials of the day (Today's soup was clam chowder, hence the beach).

Kevin took one step in that direction to get a better look at his drawings, only to jerk back with a yelp. An enormous german shepherd wearing a policeman's cap trotted past him, holding a pizza box in his mouth that bore a smeared blue paw print on one corner. The dog vanished through one of the arches. The sign above it read _Adventure Bay_ in flowing cursive _._ Oh. A teen with an orange backpack and shaggy brown hair knelt on the floor nearby, examining the scaly pink hand of a fluffy blue… dragon-cat creature that looked more like a giant guinea pig with purple horns. Also, this teen may or may not have had a real actual jaguar curled up on the floor behind him, watching his every move?

Okay, sure. Between his uncle's fairy traps, the ghost boy in the pilgrim clothes, Girlfriend's/Miss Idaho's ability to talk, and the glowing bracelet infused with illegal drugs capable of turning his limbs elastic, this wasn't any weirder than all the other stuff he'd dealt with tonight. Kevin shrugged and kept looking around the place, even as Tad, Chad, and Veronica watched him with hopeful stares. He could feel their eyes blazing holes in the back of his skull.

He'd expected gushing blasts of cold air, wobbly chairs, and paper napkins, but found himself faced instead with black tables, enormous C-shaped booth seats, and silverware wrapped in dark blue cloth. Buffet counters lined the perimeter. Instead of dirty red-brown tiles, the floor had been patterned with interesting grays and splashes of yellow.

Kevin shook his head, and then his arm. "I have to admit, I was sort of thinking that at a pizza place, we'd just walk up and grab something in a box to go."

"Times change," Veronica said, with a swift glance at her brother. "So, um, what do you think?"

"I guess I like it."

"Not too weird for you?" Tad asked. They all gave him Those Looks again. The _Any second now, he'll run off screaming with his arms flailing and his tail between his legs_ sort of looks. Kevin glanced between the four kids, not… totally sure how to respond to that.

"I'm good," he finally said.

Flutters of disappointment crossed their expressions, but they didn't let his answer get them down. Shrugging, they paid their entrance fees at the register and headed towards the buffet. Kevin stopped walking, awkward as a fish in his bear pajamas. He lifted one hand and cocked his head to the side. "Uhh…"

No pockets. No wallet. No money.

The boys rushed to the food, and Veronica kept on their heels like a helicopter puppy on a leash of twine. But Trixie happened to check over her shoulder and spy him there. She paused, lips pursed.

"Um," Kevin said, tugging at his collar.

Sighing, Trixie clipped back towards him in her high-heeled boots. Kevin wondered how much longer she would keep those shoes before upgrading them to something that boosted her height above even his. She seemed like the type who would care about that. In her typical regal way, she handed her credit card over the front counter to the girl at the register ( _Miriam_ , her name tag read). Miriam skimmed the card through the machine and handed it back. Kevin released his breath.

"Thanks–"

"One favor or public act of self-humiliation, to be claimed at a later date. You're welcome." Trixie turned on her heel and flowed back to the buffet. Kevin blinked after her, his stomach sinking to his knees. Oh.

He found the stack of hot plates and took one. All right. So, what was he hungry for? He'd been longing for variety while sitting on the floor of Grandmama's and Uncle Denzel's kitchen, but now, faced with so many choices, Kevin couldn't help but feel a little lost. Shirley's may have gotten its humble start as a pizza restaurant, but clearly, it had expanded over the last fifty years (or however long it had been around). Trixie, Tad, Chad, and Veronica all seemed to be circling the buffet as a group, like a school of sharks. For the most part they avoided the pizza options, instead favoring steamed vegetables and enormous cinnamon rolls. Kevin's hand hesitated over the final slice of pepperoni pizza on the platter. In the end, he followed their lead.

Between the soup and salad counters, Trixie stopped dead. She was in the lead, so the rest of her posse fanned out behind her. They ducked backwards. Tad grabbed Kevin's wrist and yanked him after them.

"What?" Kevin whispered, peering over their heads. Anyone who could make the popular kids lose their cool had to be pretty important.

A man with a red shirt and graying hair stood at the counter that served turkey. He loosely held the wrist of a thin blond boy who looked about twelve. Thirteen at the most. The boy only wore two colors on his entire body: yellow and white. This was true all the way from the white sunglasses with yellow-tinted lenses down to his socks and sneakers. Not even his laces were black. He held the sleekest silver cell phone Kevin had ever seen in his one free hand, but although that was cool, Kevin hadn't planned to give this strangely yellow-clad boy a second glance until Trixie fluttered her fingers and whisper-called, "Hi, Leo,"

Leo glanced at the gray-haired man beside him, who was too busy arguing with someone on the far side of the turkey to notice. Then he quietly slipped his wrist loose and gave it a shake. For his next trick, he tried to approach their half-hidden group between the counters, but didn't make it far before an odd harness-like contraption around his chest halted him in his tracks. It looked like one of those baby leashes overprotective parents stuck on their toddlers at amusement parks, but made of metal (and shiny white as porcelain). The straps were decked out with curious yellow lights. The other end of the leash seemed like it might be attached to the waist of the guy at the counter. Kevin slid his eyes downward. A second rope that connected to the gray-haired man's middle also stretched down to a black-haired guy, bored, who sat on the floor picking at the bottom of his combat boot with a blue plastic knife.

Even with the sunglasses on, Kevin couldn't miss Leo rolling his eyes. He unclipped the front of the harness and shrugged it from his shoulders. This, he set quietly to the floor beside the black-haired man (who raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut), and then trotted over to join their hunkered group behind the other counter.

"Hey, Trix," he said, holding out his arms for a hug. Trixie sprang to her feet. The pair embraced, with Trixie being very careful not to spill her plate. Once he let go of her, Leo gave the Guildfords a courtesy salute. Then he turned to Kevin. "Ooh, who's the new kid?"

"Crockpot's nephew," Chad supplied, and Tad drove the nail deeper with, "He's the latest in a long line of town crazies."

Kevin flinched, but Leo only grinned. "Ah, cake! What are the odds? Me too!"

As he spoke, Kevin was actually watching the gray-haired man at the meat counter look down at his empty hand for the first time. He went stiff. He jerked his head left, right, then spun in a circle.

"What–? Oh no! Eddie, where did he go?"

The black-haired guy on the floor shrugged. "I'unno. Trainland Happyville, maybe?"

"Who was he with? _Please_ don't say he took the underwater portal again."

Eddie continued scraping the plastic knife along his boot. "Listen, James. Let's straighten one thing out between us. I am Leo's uncle first, and your baby cousin second. I'm the only smart and pretty uncle he's got, too, so don't go smacking this beautiful face of mine around. And since I like that kid, that means I am duty-bound to keep his secrets out of the evil parental clutches of you and that demon witch you married."

Kevin glanced at Leo, who watched this display unfold with the same grin Molly slipped into when she'd gotten away with painting a piece of furniture jet black without her dad noticing. James tightened his hands into fists.

"You mean he's running around the dimensional crossroads _unsupervised?_ Aw, he could be halfway across the multiverse by now. Come on." He grabbed Eddie and yanked him to his feet. "If you aren't going to help, at least don't slow me down."

"Whatever you say, pumpkin pie."

"Feet move _forward,_ Eddie. That's not forward!"

Eddie snorted. "Hey, it's forward in the backwards dimension. That's what you always call ol' Dimmsdale anyway, right? S'probably where he went."

They disappeared through one of the smaller archways, with James cursing up a storm of chemical formulas the whole time. Leo smothered a chuckle in the crook of his arm, then turned back to Kevin. "Don't you just love it? Makes family reunions a thousand times more entertaining, huh? Right? Hey. Hey, don't leave me hanging, cake." When Kevin didn't response, Leo tilted up his sunglasses and winked. "Come on, Kev, you know what I mean. It's minty to be the local kooky house. Every town has one, so live up the lottery you won, right? Smile and wave and laugh it off when everything goes to nuts. Nothing better than a family who keep you on your toes. Right, bucko? No? Just me?"

"I just…" Kevin looked away, drumming his fingers against the bottom of his plate. The hot condensation stung. "I don't really like my family being called 'town crazies,' that's all."

"Gotcha. Well, that's fair. Every couple generations, there's bound to be a little rebel in the family. I know I was. On _both_ sides." Leo shrugged and let his sunglasses drop. Turning to Trixie, he said, "Hey, we'll have to meet up again when it's not so late. Maybe in the Retroville room, next Thursday? I'll buy you breadsticks and soda."

"I'll check my schedule," Trixie said carefully, but when she ducked her head, she was smiling. With Leo in tow, their group finished collecting their food from the buffet, then moved to the rear of the restaurant. To Kevin's surprise, there was another set of double doors back there, both of them pinned open. A warm breeze gushed in, and the sky out there looked incredibly dark. It looked like another entrance, just like the one up front. Same wooden decor. Similar paintings hanging on the wall. Only, standing off to one side was an enormous multicolored wheel of some sort, and the person wiping down the register at the front desk…

Kevin had just taken a bite of his pretzel roll, but at the sight of the man in blue, his mouth dropped open. "Oh. Wow. Uhh… Who is _that_ gorgeous hunk of handsome?"

The popular kids turned, with Leo a little more subtle about his sideways glance. Kevin swallowed what little roll had remained in his mouth. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't stop himself from checking the guy out. A human face with a graying goatee. Broad shoulders, made all the wider with huge shoulder pads. Top-heavy, but the thick legs and sturdy boots redistributed the weight enough to keep him balanced. His movements were ridiculously fluid, his enormous knuckles falling and tensing as he adjusted the amount of force he applied on his cleaning rag. Despite the abundance of metal in place of skin, his body was shaped _just like a human body_ , with excellent proportions and actual rippling muscles. Not to mention a long, prehensile tail that flicked back and forth as though someone had wired it so well in his brain that controlling it came naturally…

"Veronica!" Kevin grabbed her shirt in his fist, yanking her forward. With his plate, he gestured in the man's direction. "Cyborg! Cyborg! _"_

"Um," she stuttered out, looking helplessly in Trixie's direction. The cyborg in question glanced up with a hopeful smile, but inevitable disappointment etched itself across Trixie's face. Tad and Chad watched with wide eyes. Even Leo looked taken aback, for once.

Kevin ignored them–they didn't understand. Bouncing on his toes, he pointed and shouted again, _" **CYBORG!** "_

The man in blue raised his hand, offering a wave of his rag. "Oh hi, tiny Crocker," he said brightly. His fluffy tail beat back and forth like an excited puppy's. Kevin dropped his cup and plate with a _clackity-splish!_ and clenched his fists to his chin.

 _"Eeeee!_ He knows my name! Ooh, ooh, this is the greatest day I've ever lived to talk about! Cyborg! Cyborg! _**CYBORG** **!** "_

Trixie had enough. She took Kevin's shoulders in both her hands, turned him backwards, and brought his heels firmly to the ground. Kevin tried to twist around, but when he did, Trixie said, "Don't make a scene," in a straightforward way, so that was that. "Okay," he whispered back. She waited until his movements had stilled before she released him. Whoa. Kevin shook out his arms (which flopped like rubber hoses) and smoothed down his shirt. One deep breath. Two deep breaths.

Okay. Lowering his gaze, Kevin picked up the plate he'd dropped. At least most of the food had stayed on, and although he'd chipped the dish, he hadn't broken it outright. Most of his chocolate milk had spilled from his plastic cup. He stepped sideways to stand by Veronica, leaving the rest of the popular kids between him and the cyborg. Leo smirked and pressed his pinky to his shades.

"I see what you mean. We've got a kook on our hands, all right. That hunk there is Shirley, Christian. Hug him if you're into that, but watch out for the spikes. Also the fire. That's my favorite part."

"Huh?" Kevin hadn't even noticed at first, but there it was, as plain as day: A little red flame glowed between the bull horns on Shirley's head. Oh. Um. Was that a real human skull modified into a belt buckle at his waist?

Kevin thought for a moment, then decided these new details changed nothing. Shirley was, officially, the coolest person he'd ever met in real life. He even made goth-y skulls seem awesome. He started to put together something that was probably going to turn into a coherent sentence, but Chad cut him off with a groan, leaning back his head.

"Are we going to _eat_ anytime soon?"

"Spin the wheel," Tad chanted, pumping his fist, and Veronica joined in. "Spin the wheel!"

Leo looked thoughtfully at the multicolored wheel, then at Trixie. He gestured towards it with a sweep of his arm. "You wanna do the honors?"

A smile picked at the corner of her mouth. "Well, if you insist." She stepped up and wrapped both hands around the lever that would whisk the colorful wheel around. When she wrenched it towards the floor, the wheel gave out a loud _crrrraaank!_ Then it began to blur. After several seconds of watching it, Kevin leaned over to Veronica.

"What's that for?"

She shrugged and picked beneath one nail with her thumb. "Oh, that's to randomly determine our seating arrangements tonight. Shirley's overlaps a few of the neighboring universes, and part of the fun is discovering new ones you've never heard of, y'know?"

Kevin blinked and shifted his plate. "I'm sorry. What now?"

Another shrug. "Yeah, so like, welcome to the dimensional crossroads, I guess? Like, I don't even know."

Blinking again, Kevin rubbed a knuckle beneath his glasses. "Wait, what? Are you for real? I thought we weren't allowed to talk about the Fourth Wall, let alone break it." This was like, a _moms cover children's ears_ level of conversation. You were supposed to figure this stuff out on your own. Apparently, popular kids were allowed to do whatever they wanted. He glanced again at his glowing bracelet, and made a fist with his hand. "Wait. Wait. Where exactly does this place's back door open out?"

"Texas."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Kevin glanced above the door at the _Welcome to Retroville_ banner dangling from two hooks, and grimaced. "So, uh, what happens if I try to leave Shirley's from the Retroville side instead of the Dimmsdale one?"

Veronica stared at him, her mouth slightly open like she couldn't believe he would even put such a stupid question into words. "Then you go to Retroville, duh."

"That's fair."

The spinning wheel whirled, and whirled, then finally puttered to a stop between _Royal Woods_ and _Isle of Sodor_. The panel in the middle read _Plainville_. Shirley read the name aloud in a cheerfully dramatic voice, but Tad and Chad still booed.

"'Plainville?'" Kevin repeated. To be fair, Veronica was right. He'd never heard of that town before.

Tad cupped his hands around his mouth. "Lame! We want a re-roll!"

"Nope!" Shirley pushed a massive finger into the top of Tad's head, scruffing his hair. "You take what you spin and you meet a lot of brand new friends. It's fun, isn't it? Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yeah, whatever," Tad scoffed. He flounced off, although Chad shot Shirley a quick _I'm watching you_ sign with his fingers before he followed. Trixie and Leo brought up the rear with witty compliments and not-so-subtle flirting. Kevin lingered a moment longer, rubbing behind his neck. Ooh. Shirley was tall. Way, way taller than he was. He tilted back his head, twisting his toes into the floor.

"So are you, uh… doing anything next week? Maybe we could, you know… talk about your radical cyborg parts or something? Oh, wow, oh, geez, I'm starstruck. I'm into neurorobotics, you know? So maybe-"

Veronica's hand closed over the back of his collar and yanked him away. "Like, come on already, geek. We're starving over here."

"Call me," Kevin begged, stretching one arm back the way he'd come. "Let's hang, guy! If–if that's what you want… _I love you!"_

Shirley chuckled. With another wave of his rag, he went back to his cleaning. This time, he was whistling.

Veronica let him go when they caught up to the rest of the group, and brushed her hand against her leg. As they searched for their assigned archway, Kevin allowed his eyes to wander. Every arch in the restaurant's wagon wheel floor layout led to a dining area with a completely new interior, and there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason behind their designs. Or their logistics. One arch opened directly onto a theater stage. Another appeared to be full of seaweed and saltwater suspended in midair. The fifth arch they passed was mostly boarded up, but Kevin could feel faint, warm air blowing in from the other side. The peeling letters on the sign above it read _IL ORNB_ , with the last chunk broken off entirely. Below that, in dripping red, _NO ENTRY._

"Cranberry sauce," Veronica explained when she noticed Kevin staring.

He eyed the door uncertainly, clutching his plate to his chest. "What's back there?"

"The savanna. It's wearing out."

"Gotcha. And let me guess: The sign that says 'The Rainforest' really leads there, doesn't it?" When Veronica nodded, he raised his eyebrows. "Of course it does. Boy, that explains the jaguar. Luckily this is fine."

Tad stopped walking near the Dimmsdale entrance, in front of a circular door six feet off the ground. "I think this is us. Anyone want a boost?"

"Me first!" Without waiting for Tad to interlock his fingers, Chad leap-frogged on top of him and dove through the door. When he passed beneath the arch, his entire body shimmered as though he'd just ducked underwater. Kevin blinked. The world snapped into focus a second later when Chad stood up, but he looked… _different._

"Ah!" Kevin sprang back, almost dropping his cup and plate again. "Your eyes!"

"Not bad," Chad said, examining his hand. He flexed his fingers, and adjusted his slap bracelet so it wouldn't slip over his wrist. "Not as cool as I was hoping, but not bad. I was so looking forward to holding silverware with an extra finger tonight. Oh well."

Veronica held out her hand, but Tad reached past her and took Trixie's instead. Chad helped her over the lower part of the circular door. Just like him, she… _shifted_ when she crossed over to the other side. Not a lot. Almost not noticeably. But just noticeably enough. Kevin hung back, rubbing his cheek with his shoulder.

"Gee, I don't know if Mommy would want me messing around like this…"

"Don't be such a cupcake," Leo scolded, but his tone was playful. Probably. He passed on Tad's offer of a boost and sprang up beside Tad and Trixie all on his own. Veronica helped Chad up, then looked at Kevin. Well. With a gulp, he followed.

When he climbed up, Kevin could understand why Tad and Chad were disappointed in their spin. Apart from looking like it was built before the first World War, there didn't seem to be anything amazingly special about this particular room. A thin strip of chalkboard material ran around the whole area, smudged and smeared from decades of use. Wooden ceiling fans turned slowly overhead. A decorative brick oven hunkered in the corner. Actually, the most interesting design element here was the wall they had just passed beneath. Bricks seemed to be the theme for Shirley's in general. Several teenagers in the corner had chosen to ignore the chalkboard strip and were drawing on the walls in bright green and red chalk. To be fair, the designs they were coming up with were pretty interesting as far as Kevin could tell. A guy with spikes in his ginger hair sipped water in the corner by himself. Otherwise, the room was deserted.

"Peace and quiet," Leo said approvingly, swinging the hem of his jacket forward by stuffing his fists in his pockets. "You don't get a lot of this where I'm from anymore. My dad's always tinkering with noisy machines and explosive chemicals, and Mom argues with him any time she isn't sucking face. Miriam's parents blast music for their dance parties. All those alien invasion alarms along the fence beeping night and day. All those flying cars crashing into windows and dribbling smelly oil on your head… Pass." He shot Trixie a grin, which she returned with thin, tight lips and raised eyebrows. "Your guys' playing field is more my speed. I was born in the wrong generation."

Kevin glanced at him sideways. He meant to question one or more of the things Leo had said, but the words died when he noticed a scarred, slightly discolored patch along the boy's collar. Leo followed Kevin's eyes. Smirking, he pulled his shirt down to show off the rest. Kevin almost dropped his chocolate milk. His gasp made it through his mental barrier.

"Oh, this ol' thing? Skin graft." Leo let go, his shirt collar springing up to cover most of it. "Yeah, my old man took a tissue sample just after I was born. Mumsy about hit the moon."

"Uh…" What did you even say to that? Kevin fidgeted with his plate as his cheeks heated up. He hadn't meant to stare, honest! Glancing at the other kids in their group, he mumbled, "I, um, have an embarrassing birthmark shaped like a rose on the inside of my leg. I guess we're even."

Tad and Chad both skipped a beat. They threw owl-eyed glances at each other, then whipped their heads back to Kevin in sync. "What color?" Tad asked.

Kevin froze. "Uh. Sort of dark purple-red." How… did they guess it was an unusual color?

Chad nodded thoughtfully and adjusted his shades. "Huh. We know another kid with a birthmark just like that. Wonder if you're related."

"I know _two_ other kids," Tad said, jabbing his elbow between Chad's ribs.

 _"Tch!_ Yeah, right! You don't know anyone I don't, dweeb. You've never known two other kids in your _life._ You wouldn't even hang out with these guys if you didn't have me."

"Oh, you wanna go? You wouldn't even have an allowance without me, dork."

Trixie pushed the conversation forward before Kevin figured out how to respond, fluttering her lashes Leo's way. "You could come back over the border with us after this and hang out, if you want. I'm almost _entirely_ free. We're giving Courtney here the late-night tour of Dimmsdale. Popular kid reconnaissance; the usual drill."

"Kevin," Kevin muttered.

Leo shook his head with genuine remorse. "Love to, but can't. I'm dancing on glass as it is. My dad'd _freak."_ He made wiggly fingers when he said that part. "But, I'll so ring you up next time he leaves town to pick up a batch of Nobel Prizes or something, and we can cut loose then, cake?"

Still, Leo happily followed them to their tables. Kevin did not miss the fact that he and Trixie paired off on their own bench, leaning their heads together and whispering. Even Tad and Chad froze mid-step on their way to join them. They exchanged lip-biting looks, then switched gears and took the biggest booth available. Kevin followed suit. Just as he sat down across from them, however, Chad elbowed Tad twice in the side.

"Hey Tad, check it–That girl drew like three baby stingrays on the wall."

"Oh, sweet! Stingrays are rad. I'm gonna ask her out." Tad shoved an entire half of a bagel in his mouth. Both boys sprinted over to see the chalk graffiti up close, leaving Kevin sitting alone. Not that he was really surprised.

Although, it was almost a shock when Veronica sat down _right beside him_ , instead of across the table with her brothers. She mumbled a hello and took a sip of water. A long sip. The cup came down with a clunk, ice cubes clinking. In the next booth over, Trixie said something with a giggle that made Leo smack his hand against the table as he wheezed.

"So, uh…" Kevin played with his glowing bracelet for a moment and tried to think of something to say. In the end, he settled on, "It's pretty cool you have a twin. I'm an only child. I guess you two are really close, huh?"

Veronica did not answer, but Kevin felt every muscle in her body stiffen at the same time. When he glanced over, her wide eyes were fixed on the churro in her hand. She was squeezing it so hard, it looked like it might pop straight out of its wrapper. Kevin let go of his bracelet and wrapped his fingers around his knife.

"Uh-oh. I said something wrong again, didn't I?"

"I'm. Fine." Veronica spoke through gritted teeth, and Kevin didn't believe her for an instant. Even so, he looked away.

"Well, as long as you're fine…"

Then her churro really did fall from her hand. It missed her plate, missed the table, missed her lap, and plopped onto the tile. Veronica's breathing turned icy heavy. Kevin inched away down the bench as he realized she was fighting back tears.

"I'm fine," she said again. Two seconds passed in silence. Kevin handed her his own churro.

"Here. Take mine. I didn't put my mouth on it yet, and I already had some cookies anyway, so that's probably enough sugar for one night."

"Great," Veronica whimpered, clapping her hands to her cheeks. As the tears welled up, she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the churro on the ground. "This is just great. I can't even eat my snacks right. No wonder Tad never wants to hang out with me. No wonder I lost him to Chad and Trixie. Gah, I'm such a loser. _Such_ a _loser."_

Kevin picked up his fork and cut into his mashed potatoes. "That's okay. You and me can be losers together. If your brothers don't want to be your friend, you can be friends with me."

She laughed at him, her laughter barking out. "Are you kidding? Um, _hello_. I'm one of the popular girls. You've that whole…" Veronica took her hand from her face long enough to make an up and down hand motion. "… nerdy look going on. These kinds of things never work out in the long run. If I started dating _you_ , I'd like, lose what little respect my brothers still have for me. And if I don't have their respect, then I'll lose out on Trixie's too. Which, um, is like, _so_ totally not an option, okay?" Softer, "They're the only friends I have."

"Oh, oh, you're right, sorry," Kevin mumbled, glaring at a chunk of potatoes that kept falling off his fork. He hadn't said "dating", and the thought hadn't really crossed his mind. Sure, Veronica was kind of pretty, maybe, but they'd only known each other for about an hour, and that wasn't long enough to build a relationship in Kevin's mind.

The tears were falling now. Oh. Oh. That was awkward. Veronica grabbed her forehead, eyes wide and teeth straining. She held out her upturned hand, grasping at nothing in the air. "Like, everything was fine when Chad and his mom came into our lives, okay? So yeah, that was great and all. But even though I lost my mom to some man she met in Paris and everything, and even though she like totally left us for him and she never calls us back or visits us anymore, and _even though_ it's so hard to make real friends when your parents keep you busy with all these oodles of vacations and dinner parties and everything and _nobody's friendship is even real anyway_ , I always like, knew I still had Tad to help me through this and all, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"B-but when we turned 10 and he started taking an interest in my best friend, I mean, what was I even supposed to do? Let him and Chad run off with Trixie and leave me in the dust? Not gonna happen! It's not gonna happen. He's never coming back. It's not gonna happen." Veronica's eyes finally squeezed shut. Her hand clenched into a fist. "I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm _fine._ Thanks for checking in, actually."

Kevin arched his eyebrows. Covering his mouth while he chewed, he said, "Wow. You've got even more unresolved issues about your stepsiblings than I do." He swallowed. "I mean, I don't have a best friend that Molly can steal away from me, and come to think of it, I don't even think she has a best friend that I can steal away from her, so win-win. Who knows? Maybe she and I could get a good thing going between us after all. Hey." He pointed at the churro on his plate. "Are you going to want this, or should I just keep eating?"

Veronica breathed a long huff between her teeth. She didn't open her eyes. "You're a real sunny optimist, aren't you, Curtis?"

"Um. It's actually Kevin." Kevin tapped his heels together, his gaze sliding to his lap. His bracelet glittered green along the edge of his vision. "You know, I'm only supposed to be in California until September. But it would be real neat if I had a friend in Dimmsdale. Maybe you'd want to be my first one? I'd like to get out of my uncle's house as often as I can, and… maybe you could show me around the city. I've lived in a small town my whole life, so everything here is so new and different to me."

For the first time in several minutes, Veronica turned and looked at him. Kevin's eyes flitted up to hers, and they connected. For a moment, it was like they could read each other's mind. They understood each other perfectly. He was sure of it. And now they could be friends (maybe even pen-pals), and living away from home with his weird estranged relatives wouldn't be so scary after all.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Veronica said, her voice as honest as a cooked ham. She set her palms to the bench beside her and straightened up. "But see, here's the way it is in Dimmsdale. I run with the popular crowd. And the thing is, you don't. We only came over today to figure out which box to label you with before school starts on Monday so we can have the whole weekend to like, work out our feelings on you. But I don't know why we even bothered. You're a Crocker. We should've just figured out from your name alone that a Crocker couldn't ever be one of our group."

Kevin scrunched his brows. "Why not? Can't you at least give me a chance?"

Veronica turned, dropping her silverware. Apparently she'd been holding silverware, along with the bunched-up paper wrapper from her straw. With a soft snort, she brought her finger up to poke him in the chest. She scooted him further and further down the bench as she went on. "A _chance?_ Are you kidding? Ha! Your uncle is a crazy, deranged, overactive, overzealous crackpot lunatic, and we can already tell that you're going to grow up to be just like him."

Before Kevin could get his mouth around the words he wanted (or even _think_ the words he wanted), a metallic crash sounded behind him. He sprang up on his knees and peered over the top of the booth. In one of the dining areas on the far side of the buffet, near the Dimmsdale side, two men—one who was very thin and one who had curly red hair—were snooping around. They were obviously looking for something… or someone. To further confirm this, the thinner man stamped his foot and pointed at the tile.

"Galileo Albert Neutron! You show your smug little face front and center this instant! And bring my wayward daughter back with you when you do. She never came home tonight and I miss her so much. Her mother is still on tour and I've been so _bored_ and _lonely_ all alone! … No offense, Carl."

"Oh, no worries, Sheen. Toss me a medium pepperoni and there's none taken."

At the front desk, Miriam slowly lifted her hand as high as her cheek. "I'm right here, Dad. I'm always here late on Fridays."

The thin man (Sheen, apparently) rushed back into the main buffet and flung his arms in the air. "It's a miracle! Praise the sun! Houston, we have confirmation that the youngest child of my loins still lives on to carry the Estevez legacy for generations to come."

Miriam arched one eyebrow. "Are you here to grab dinner for you and Uncle Carl, or just to totally embarrass me at work again?"

"Oh, you know, just a little of both. With a few of those breadsticks on the side. Oh yeah." He jabbed his thumb sideways. "And _Carl_ here wants a medium pepperoni. Probably with the pineapple and anchovies on the side like some sort of weird hooney-talooney. He's one of _those_ people. It's not natural, you get?"

"… Pretty sure he's allergic to at least one of those things."

The redheaded man, now named Carl, abandoned the greasy platter he'd been peering under at the counter and straightened up. "Well, anyway, Leo. Your Uncle Sheen's right. If you can still hear us, you'd better get back here right now, or else. The 'or else' meaning, you better get back here right now or else your mom is going to kill us both."

"Yeah, if you even make it home before your dad scolds your corpse to death," Sheen put in. Carl smacked his arm, and he hissed, _"What?_ I'm just saying, it's bound to happen eventually! We've all gotta go sometime."

Leo, laughing all the while, left his booth and leaned one hand against Kevin and Veronica's table. "Hey, listen. I gotta bolt. It was a real hoot to meet you. Look me up if you ever get a passport to Retroville. And keep me posted on your Uncle Crockpot, sav?" After giving one last tip of his sunglasses in Kevin's direction, he dropped through the circle doorway with a shout of, "Hey Uncle Carl, Uncle Sheen! Did you come 8.32 whole kilometers just to see forgettable old me? Aww, I'm blushing."

Tad and Chad came wandering back over, Tad cleaning his shades on the hem of his shirt. "Oh boy," Chad said, following Kevin's nosy stare.

 _"Galileo!"_ That was Leo's dad. James Neutron charged across the pizza place, dragging both Leo's limp child safety harness and Eddie behind him. Kevin expected him to hug his son or something, but instead, James grabbed Leo by the shoulders and shook him back and forth half a dozen times. _"Why do you always insist on returning to this cesspool of filth and chemicals, you fragile child of human bones and malleable flesh?"_ He took a breath, then turned his attention Miriam's way. "No offense."

She raised her hands in surrender.

"I love you too, Dad," Leo said, never dropping his smile.

James turned on him again, and finally released his shoulders. Bending down, he picked up the dragging leash. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times–" He covered his face, then shoved the harness into Leo's amused hands. "Look. I can respect the fact that you want to make friends with other kids across the dimensional rift. Sure, fine. Whatever. But your mother's body cannot produce a second child, so I _need_ you to be more careful with your DNA. My rules were explicitly clear: If you want to hang out at Shirley's, you have to stay on its _Retroville_ side. With your universal molecular stabilizer _on_. It's too dangerous to wander back and forth across a fraying border, rectanathre or no rectanathre."

Leo looked around in mock surprise. "Whoa, you're right! How did I never notice all these other patrons wearing dimensional stabilizing whatevers before just like us?"

"Hey." His father jabbed a finger at his nose. "Don't get sharp with me, Glimbo. I've collected measurements around this joint every week for fifty years, so trust me when I say it's only growing more dangerous every day. This place is built on a dimensional fault line. There's no telling when the next quake will be, but by my calculations, it's bound to shatter for good. In case there's an emergency, that harness will monitor your vital signs, purify water, and send out a multiverse tracking signal until I find you again." Easing back, "Or at the very least, it will let your mother and I identify the blurry remains of your body if you plunge into the rift between our world and Dimmsdale and come back to us as an undead glitch in reality."

"Sure, Dad."

James shook his head in disbelief. "I mean, look at Uncle Eddie. Even he agrees with me on this one."

The black-haired man that James had tied himself to looked up from his fingernail cleaning routine. "Hey G, tell your nutso pop over here that I outgrew my patience for wearing baby stuff in the second trimester, will ya?"

Leo's puffed cheeks told Kevin that he was only barely smothering his laughter. "Okay, Dad," he managed, still grinning, and clipped the harness around his chest again. His father waited until all the lights were blinking yellow (and for Leo to give him two thumbs up), then finally relaxed at the shoulders. He was still scolding his son as they made their way back to the Retroville entrance of the restaurant. Shirley called a farewell. It went unanswered.

Trixie, who had come over to stand beside Chad, set her hands to her hips and sighed. "Isn't he just the coolest?"

"Yeah, I know." Somehow, Kevin found himself unable to tear his wide eyes away from the back of James Neutron's head. "It's crazy. I can't believe he invented a universal molecular stabilizer! I want one of those!"

Trixie, Veronica, Tad, and Chad all gave him the same sideways glance as though he'd missed the point. They returned to eating, except for Trixie, who leaned one hand against the end of the table in much the same way Leo had just done.

"So. Crocker." She had let her hair down a moment ago. Now, she pushed it behind her shoulders with both hands, clamping it all in a mock ponytail. Her puffy hair tie rested around her wrist. Grimacing, she let her hair flutter down again. A single dark curl spiraled from beneath her headband. "Do you have any questions?"

Kevin looked down at his plate. "Uh. Only one. How did we even find churros at a pizza buffet?"

Trixie sighed. "I mean, questions relating to me. You're the new kid, and today is the only day I am obligated to talk to you. Don't you have any questions about me?"

"Um." Kevin glanced sideways at Veronica, then at Tad and Chad, then at Trixie again. He pressed his toes together. "Should… I?"

Wrong answer, apparently. Trixie lost interest in him, and for the rest of the dinner, the popular kids talked exclusively among themselves until Chad asked Kevin to pass the Tabasco sauce.

No one seemed to be home when Kevin returned to 4158 Woodnick Lane, although only two seconds after he'd pulled his covers over his head, he heard the front door open downstairs. That figured. Idly, Kevin wondered if his uncle would even bother to check up on him. Or if he remembered his nephew was here at all. His voice was pretty loud, echoing all the way up the stairs and down the hallway. From the sound of it, Miss Idaho had rushed to to the door when he'd come in. Now Uncle Denzel was cooing over "Girlfriend" and offering to whip up her favorite late-night snack, having no idea his hairless cat was actually his magical ex-girlfriend in disguise. Yep. That was pretty much life.

Kevin sighed at the ceiling, which was especially boring now that he'd taken his glasses off. The towers of boxes still cluttered his room like stalagmites in a cave. Cold air seeped in through a crack in the window. The floor creaked. The grandfather clock bonged right outside his room, which was super creepy, because Kevin could have sworn it was broken, but whatever.

What was Molly doing right now? He knew she and her dad had gone to stay with her aunt, uncle, and six cousins in Montana. Were they still on the road? Had she settled in better than he had? Maybe he should check up on her. Kevin clicked on the screen of his phone and found himself greeted by a simple message.

 _Hey. R u still up?_

Kevin texted back _No_ and slammed it down on his bedside table. The photo of his mom on the dock with her fishing pole, with Uncle Denzel and Grandpapa in the background in their rowboat, fell to the floor with a clatter. Warm guilt swelled inside his chest. After another few seconds flickered past in silence, he rolled free of his blankets and dropped to the ground. On his hands and knees, he peered beneath his bed. Oh look, two-legged ghost kitten. What a surprise.

"What do you want?" Kevin muttered, snatching up the fallen picture frame.

The two-legged kitten pressed itself against the floor, beating its tail back and forth in perfect silence. It was totally there, right in front of him, so Kevin didn't even bother reaching for his glasses. You know, eventually he was going to stop caring that this kept happening to him and him alone.

Instead of sprinting for the door or scrambling back into bed, he took a moment to examine the nervous animal. Of course, Uncle Denzel had sort of mentioned that Grandmama used to own a two-legged cat who had eventually been granted prosthetic limbs. So this had to be Cyborg. Or, well, if Miss Idaho was to be believed about stinky witch magic and everything, this was the house's memory of Cyborg from back when the cat was just a kitten.

Kevin sighed, shoulders slumping. "Your boy is right behind me, isn't he?"

No reply. The kitten lowered its chin to its chest. Kevin twisted towards the door, fully expecting to find the bespectacled britches-wearing boy standing among the boxes in his room. But there was no one. And when he glanced under the bed again, the kitten was gone too. Well, that figured.

"I know you're doing this just to mess with me, House," Kevin said, raising his voice so all the walls could hear. "I don't really appreciate this form of humor, and I'd really like to be left alone now so I can get some good sleep and be all rested for tomorrow. I have like, a life and stuff."

Offended silence sneered back at him.

Too awake now to want to crawl back into bed, even if it did sound nice and warm, Kevin replaced the picture on the nightstand and wandered into the hall. The first thing he did was take a look at the grandfather clock on his left, which was definitely broken, because of course it was. No secret door loomed at him from the other end of the landing. The wall was blank. No creepy floating ghost kids. Rolling his eyes, Kevin slumped down the stairs. Noise and light leaked from the living room, so he poked his head around the corner to see what was going on. If he had to guess, not much.

The lights were off, possibly still burned out from earlier. Although Kevin did notice the new box of bulbs sitting beside the gumdrops on the nearest side table, so apparently his uncle had gone to the hardware store for real this time. The tiny TV flickered with hazy blueness. Uncle Denzel lay sprawled across the couch, an arm flopped behind him. Sleeping already? Most likely, although his glasses were still balanced on his nose. One of his ankles bore a shiny piece of metal with seven colorful stars blinking in the dark, like a house arrest monitor invented by aliens.

Miss Idaho lay curled on Uncle Denzel's chest, her eyes fixed on the screen. She rose and fell in time with his shaky breathing, nestled beneath his hand. One protective paw covered the TV remote. Kevin lingered at the wall, gripping the curve of the archway, until the cat noticed he was there and rotated her ears.

"I don't want to sleep," he told her bluntly. "I slept on the bus and I'm not tired. Can I watch TV with you?"

"If you're quiet," the cat said.

There wasn't any room left on the couch, so Kevin sat on the floor in front of her and pulled his knees up to his chest. He spent the first three minutes trying to puzzle out what was happening onscreen, then finally asked, "Who's the chick with the red hair and the rooster head?"

"That's the carpentry teacher. She wishes to flee her mundane small town life and run off to the city at last with the butcher's son. It's a beautiful tale of passion and comedic misfortune."

"Oh… Is that squinting man with the scales on his legs her brother or something?"

Miss Idaho sighed and propped her head on one curled paw. "That's her half-sister's ex-boyfriend. He flew in from Florence, Kentucky in order to pose as her fiancé at the grandest gala of the 43rd century."

Kevin continued to stare at the screen with mounting confusion. "Why did they tie that British guy's golf clubs onto that elephant?"

"Honey, this is a complicated storyline. Why don't you let me watch it in peace, and I'll fill the gaps in your understanding when it's over."

Kevin was just opening his mouth to protest that he'd be a lot more quiet if he understood what was going on, when a flash of silvery white caught his eye. Turning to face the hall behind him, he spotted the pilgrim ghost boy disappear into the kitchen. Hmm. Kevin army-crawled across the living room, then stood up when he was sure he was too far away to bother Miss Idaho and sprinted after him.

Too late. Of course. When Kevin reached the kitchen, the ghost boy was already gone. Stupid house. Kevin rolled his eyes again, this time with even more unnecessary exaggeration. He poked around the corners for a minute more, but no one was there. Memory or otherwise.

So, after getting a glass of water and bidding Miss Idaho goodnight, Kevin headed back to his messy room. Up the creaky stairs, past the blank place where the mystery door had been, and through a couple of hallways with walls that had changed from the last time he'd seen them, before he finally flopped back into his sagging, squeaky bed for his first (and last) night of well-deserved sleep.

* * *

 **A/N-** The fantasy drug rectanathre has always been a thing in my fanfics, and if you're interested in seeing more of it, "You're Not Okay" and "Borderline" would be good places to start. Not to be confused with the hereditary cartoon physics discussed in "Of Ants and Cartoon Physics."

 **Nick show cameos are as follows:**

Zach from _Shimmer and Shine_

Rudy from _ChalkZone_

Chase from _Paw Patrol_

Blue's pawprint from _Blue's Clues_

Diego and Baby Jaguar from _Go, Diego, Go_

Bunsen from _Bunsen Is a Beast_

Jimmy, Eddie, Sheen, and Carl from _The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius,_ accompanied by some fankid OCs

References to _The Loud House, Thomas & Friends,_ and _The Wild Thornberries_ were also made at the wheel and when Kevin noticed the savanna


	5. A Road of Our Own

(Posted March 6, 2019)

 **A Road of Our Own**

 _Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops_

 _Saturday, May 15th, 2004 - 6:31 am_

* * *

Molly. 5:20 am. _Hey. R u up yet?_

Kevin. 5:22 am. _No._

Molly. 5:25 am. _Haha. How is Cali?_

Sigh.

An hour ago, Kevin had unplugged his phone from its short charging cord specifically so he could roll to the other side of the bed. It was nice and cool against the window, and felt amazing when combined with the warm blankets. He spent twenty minutes just staring at the pale gray screen before he sent his thumbs to tap out a reply.

 _Okay I guess. Made it safely. Uncle Denzel invited kids my age over and we ate pizza. His cat is a snooty know-it-all but she means well. Not a lot of power outlets in my room tho :( Hard to squeeze behind bed. How is Montana?_

He typed each word carefully, double and triple checking for spelling mistakes. Molly was dyslexic, but he didn't know her well enough to be sure whether it was easier for her to read when words were spelled out, or when they were abbreviated. It was five minutes before she replied.

 _Pretty lame._

That message came through in its own bubble, followed by three gray dots that signaled she was typing something else. Kevin continued staring at the screen, his cheek resting on his hand and the cord of his lucky shark's tooth necklace in his mouth. One of his feet stuck out from beneath the blankets, and every few minutes, two of the three Crocker family birds (Dwayne and Pile of Goo) would peck at his toes like they were chubby little worms. Last night, after lying in bed thinking about memory-ghosts, Kevin had begged Miss Idaho to watch over him until he fell asleep. She'd flatly refused. Instead, she'd vanished into the depths of the house and returned with the raven and the maybe-conure perched on her spine. One… looking considerably more bird-like than the other. Kevin had wanted to protest, but Miss Idaho brought them all into his room in the end, and Kevin had reluctantly admitted they'd be much better company than the spiders in Uncle Denzel's spider hatchery.

 _6 cousins._ read Molly's next text. _No space. Sharing room with 3 girls. Slpbag on floor :p_

New text, a few minutes later: _Dad has it worse tho. Only place for him was couch and he can't get comfy. Outside lights in his eyes._

Again: _Aunt Mandy has dogs. Cuddly by day, nightmares at night._

 _Joke's on you._ Kevin typed back. _I have my own room to myself._

But no cousins, he couldn't help remembering as he flopped his head back against his pillow. The curtains were drawn back, hanging like musty bats, but not a lot of sunlight was getting in just yet. Kevin sighed at the ceiling. The room had this one spiral light bulb which flickered constantly, but no ceiling fan. He was awake, but had no real reason to get up.

Although maybe he should. He could leave his phone up here in his room, and pretend to be so busy doing something else, he wouldn't notice when Molly replied. Then he wouldn't feel obligated to respond to Mommy's missed call, either. She hadn't left a voice message. Kevin checked his phone again and scowled. He really needed that WiFi password. That was as good a reason as any to start his day…

One of the birds pecked the bottom of his foot again. All evidence pointed to Dwayne. Kevin pushed himself up and stared at the raven crouched on his knee. Dwayne, in turn, stared back at him. He gave a squawk and rustled his feathers with a soft shuffle. Then, with a final decisive pluck, he flew over to one of the stacks of boxes and perched himself there instead.

Pile of Goo, however, remained where he was. Kevin reached forward and stroked the little green bird's cheek(?) with one finger, then grabbed his glasses and oozed out of bed. His clothes were still in his suitcase. Kevin opened it to grab a shirt, but stopped, hand hovering. That two-legged memory ghost kitten, Cyborg, lay curled up on top of his underwear. Nope. Kevin slammed the suitcase shut, snatched his phone, and headed into the hall instead. He'd deal with that problem when there were more witnesses awake to suffer through it with him.

Let's see… Ask for WiFi password first, then get breakfast? If he waited long enough, would someone cook something up for him? It _was_ technically his first full day in the Crocker household, after all. He deserved pancakes for that or something, or waffles. He'd also accept a crepe or a fat blueberry muffin. Grandparents were supposed to be all fawning and motherly, right? Eh, it wouldn't hurt to ask. He should at least talk to Grandmama this morning before he went off and did anything else–he didn't want her to think he was avoiding her on purpose, after all.

Wait. What was that sputtering sound? A broken vent? A leaking pipe? Or…

Miss Idaho and Smokey both sat in the hallway, facing Grandmama's bedroom door with their ears pricked up. Kevin flicked a finger at the black tomcat. "Yo, what's with him? This is the first time I've seen either of you mad at something other than me. Is breakfast late for you guys too? I'm heading down there now, if anyone wants food."

"Shh," Miss Idaho said. "Dennis needs a moment to process his own empathy."

"Uh, sorry. Who's Dennis?"

She sighed. "Smokey, dear. You really ought to keep a list. You see, 'Smokey' doesn't remember it, but Dennis was his old name." Miss Idaho licked her forepaw and ran it over one ear. Without awaiting a response, she said, "Something's upset him. I haven't worked up the amount of care required to request he elaborate."

Okay, sure. He'd allow it. Kevin listened with them for a moment. The noises behind the door didn't sound, like… great, or anything. Kind of sad, actually. Um. Tucking his shirt into his pajama pants, he asked, "Is my Grandmama crying in there?"

Several seconds passed without an answer. Miss Idaho flipped her tail from one side to the other. Then, not taking her eyes from the door, she said simply, "Yes."

Kevin studied the door too. Silence. He scratched behind his neck, then across his throat. "So, uh, should I ask if she wants to talk about it or something?"

"Hmm… Ordinarily, I'd tell you no. 'She's only mortal, after all,' I'd say, and whatever pain she's experiencing would all be over soon, so why waste your time running damage control on inadvertent emotions?" Miss Idaho turned her head, whiskers twitching. She upturned her paw in something like a shrug. "But then, witches are not ordinary mortals. Perhaps, for once, it is in fact worth stepping in."

Kevin came forward, hand raised to knock. Smokey/Dennis hissed and slunk to Miss Idaho's other side before sitting down again. To Miss Idaho, Kevin said, "You're a jerk. You know that?"

"Hmph," she said, not sounding offended in the slightest. She lifted her chin and placed one paw across her chest. "I'm a korrigan, dear. Being kind of heart while in my most beautiful form isn't in my nature. If it's empty pity you want, talk to me when I look human. There's a reason I caught your uncle's romantic interest back in the day, unappealing as that form's face may be…"

Kevin knocked on the door three times, slowly. The whimpering sound on the other side died down to sniffles. Kevin licked his lips. "Um… Grandmama? Are you okay in there? You… sound kind of upset about something."

Footsteps. Smokey/Dennis mewed. Miss Idaho pretended not to care. The door swung inward to reveal an elderly woman with dark blue eyes and thick glasses just like Kevin's own, although her puffy hair had turned white over the years. She wore rose-colored pajamas, and a crocheted shawl around her shoulders. The bedroom behind her had been painted pale green with darker stripes. Kevin noticed mocha brown bedsheets and a spiral-cord telephone on the bedside table, but not much else before his grandmother _grabbed_ his head and crushed his body against hers in something like a hug.

"Oh my goodness! Good morning, Kevin. It's so wonderful to meet you at last, dear!" Her tone was genuine, even though she sniffled at the end. The frames of her glasses clacked against his own. "Terribly long bus ride to Dimmsdale from Idaho, I imagine? Oh, I just hate that your mother chose to send you all this way all on your own."

"We needed a break," Kevin said, hugging her back. He tried to keep the pinching teeth out of his words when he said it. He drank in that wrinkly old-person scent of her, and the softness of her hug. He'd never have a grandparent to hug before and it was… kind of nice. Like he was actually part of a family for once. He tightened his grip around her shoulders instead of loosening it. "Uh, the bus ride was nice, actually. Kind of a welcome break from doing homework in my room, I guess."

"Well, I'm overjoyed to hear it, Kevin dear." Grandmama pulled back, rapidly blinking her eyes. Kevin sucked on his bottom lip.

"Yeah. It was fine. Uh. Is there anything I can do to, um… Help you out? I know I just got here last night, and we haven't…" Kevin pressed his hand behind his neck. "Gee. Actually, I guess this is our first time talking face to face. Well, uh, I just wanted you to know you can probably talk to me about stuff or whatever, if you need to. I'm good at listening."

"It's… it's all right, Kevin. Thank you. I appreciate it. I do." Grandmama's eyes welled with tears. She took off her glasses and wiped her face with the end of her sleeve. "You wouldn't know anything about him, but… My dear brother Albert died this morning. He's gone now."

"Oh…" Mommy had never mentioned her Uncle Albert before. Kevin gripped his arm. Yikes. He'd never actually had to, uh… comfort someone who'd lost a sibling. Especially a stranger (even if they were technically related). Erm… How exactly was he supposed to go about this? "Wow, they sure deliver news fast these days, huh?"

Grandmama held her glasses by her waist, folding the arms in and out. "No. No. They'll be arriving soon to deliver the news in person, I'm sure. I haven't been officially told yet, but…" She lifted her gaze to meet his. "… I sensed it when his spirit let go. He's gone. My little Bertie's gone…"

Her gaze pierced his skull on a skewer. Kevin's breath stung inside his throat. His fingers pinched his elbow. Was she expecting some kind of reaction about her 'I sensed it' comment? Did she know the whole truth about the Crocker family being witches? Because Uncle Denzel didn't even seem to know for sure, from what little information Kevin had gleaned from him. Had Miss Idaho ever spoken to her about magic? Based on what Uncle Denzel had said last night, Miss Idaho used to talk to Grandmama before he came into town. Kevin studied his grandmother while she studied him. Had she heard him talking to the cats outside the door? And was she wondering how much he knew, too?

 _I should ask. Surely she's seen the memory ghosts before? Maybe she can give me some advice._

 _But I can't talk to her now! Her brother just_ _ **died!**_ _She needs some time alone without me making her think about complicated things._ The only thing Kevin knew for sure about magic right now was that "Complicated" was putting it all mildly.

"Are you all right?" Grandmama asked. She tugged at her shawl. "You're looking rather pale, even in this light."

Kevin's nails tightened in his skin. "Um. Grandmama?"

The doorbell rang downstairs. Kevin flinched, his question puttering into silence. Grandmama rubbed her eyes with her sleeve again. "Ah… I suppose I should get that now. Were you saying something, dear?"

Kevin clenched his eyes shut. "… Can I get your WiFi password?"

Grandmama swept downstairs to talk to the people bringing Great-Uncle Albert's death notification, if that's really who they were. Miss Idaho and Smokey/Dennis followed right on her heels like silk shadows.

Back in his room, Kevin found Dwayne and Pile of Goo plucking at packing peanuts and bits of lace from the stacks of boxes. Meh. Miss Idaho wouldn't have brought them in here if she was worried about them getting sick. The memory of Cyborg was no longer sleeping in his suitcase, which was a nice plus. So, Kevin flopped on his bed and checked his phone. 4 unread messages from Molly. He still had that one missed message from his mom. No follow-up texts. Whatever.

He opened a search page instead of calling back. His stomach rolled, nibbling at his insides. Hhh… Shame the whole downstairs was out of bounds for the moment. Should've been faster. Kevin checked up on his favorite neurorobotics blogs (No new updates), then started poking around for ways to contact Danny Phantom. Miss Idaho might be insistent that the memory-ghosts couldn't do him any harm, but it wouldn't hurt to ask for a little advice from an expert, right? Right. His fat thumbs made way more mistakes than he'd hoped, so when he finished the short request, he made sure to read it over at least seven times in search of spelling errors.

 _Hey Danny,_

 _My name's Kevin Crocker. I'm staying with my uncle for the summer, and it turns out there's this ghost that's been living here in secret for YEARS. I know your parents invented a way to suck ghosts into jars so you can get rid of them easily. Could you send me the blueprints? Any file type is fine. I'm an expert builder, so I'll take it from there myself. Thanks!_

His thumb hesitated over the Send button. The eighth time he reread the message, he ran a few pros and cons through his head. What if…?

Two tiny puffs of smoke burst into existence at the foot of the bed. Dwayne squawked and flapped his wings while Pile of Goo just stared. Kevin jerked upright. One after the other, a tiny angel and a tiny devil leapt onto the bed covers and scampered along them like they wanted to take their traditional places at his shoulders. Oh, great. Now the House was passing judgement on him.

"Can't a guy have any secrets?" he muttered as the angel and demon stopped running. They perched together behind a tented fold of the messy blankets. Both were already waving at him frantically, making wild hand gestures. Their mouths moved in utter silence. Kevin glared at them. "You know what? Forget you guys."

He tapped his thumb. The message blinked away. Who knew? Maybe Phantom himself would even be the one to read it.

Both shoulder angel and shoulder devil stared at the screen, then accusingly at him. "What?" Kevin asked. He clicked his phone screen to black. "I didn't have any better ideas. Mommy raised a problem-solver."

The angel ruffled his wings in irritation. The devil twitched his tail. They both went up in white smoke, just as they had arrived.

"Good morning, House," Kevin said loudly, rolling off the bed. He could probably kill time by actually showering today, and maybe the downstairs discussion about Great-Uncle Albert would be over by then. His stomach let out a feeble whine. Eating would be first thing after he finished the shower. Cookie dough for breakfast today? Or make another fruitless attempt for cereal? Hmm. Too bad he didn't have any friends he could run over to share a meal with.

In the bathroom, Kevin made sure the shower had soap and a towel he could use. The only sleepover he'd ever been to had taken an awkward turn when he'd forgotten to check, so no way was he making that mistake again. He took off his glasses and blinked at his own reflection. Geez. If someone secretly entered him in a contest for whirlwind hair, he'd win first prize today. Most had been crushed while he slept, and the rest stuck up in random directions. He looked like half a bird's nest. And he hadn't remembered to brush his teeth last night, had he? Kevin stuck out his tongue.

He took a drink of water straight from the faucet and was just stripping off his shirt when his phone rattled across the counter. What? Kevin tossed it a bleary-eyed stare. It was probably just a spam call, but… What if it was Mommy? He shouldn't ignore her twice in a row.

Oh well. At least he hadn't started the shower yet. It wouldn't hurt to take a moment and talk. It had already been a day since he'd heard her voice. So, yawning, Kevin picked up the phone and pressed the bright green Accept button. He wedged it against his shoulder and started peeling off his stupid bear pajama pants.

"Crocker residence, Kevin speaking. It's me. I'm here in Dimmsdale… I made it fine, Mommy, like I told you in that other message. I met these friends, I guess. I'm doing okay."

 _"Good morning, Kevin,"_ chirped a voice. It was female, but carried the famous dusky Crocker whisper that made it more difficult to identify. Kevin squinted. His family members sounding alike might be a stereotype, but he knew his mother's voice. And this wasn't it.

"… Thanks. Uh… Grandmama? Why are you calling me? Do you need me downstairs?"

 _"I'm glad you asked, Kevin!"_ cried the speaker, albeit in a comparatively more masculine voice this time. _"If that's even your real name."_

"Uncle D-Denzel?" Kevin grabbed the counter's edge and leaned forward. Every hair on the back of his neck quivered to attention. His mind flashed to last night, when he'd first stepped inside the house. Uncle Denzel had hurled him instantly into a game show to prove his identity without taking 'No' for an answer. He'd made that same comment about Kevin's name. In that _same voice._

Huffing, Kevin grabbed his elbow. He fell back against the wall, seriously prepared to scream if he had to. It was too familiar… almost as if… the house… was using its… memories to…

 _"Welcome home,"_ said the House, creaking like a floorboard. Kevin blinked once, his fingernails wedged in his cheek. Oh. His eyes flicked to the hazy light bulbs flickering above his head. Wasn't _this_ a good ghost story: Cowering half-naked in a strange bathroom, shaking himself to pieces while the house itself shared its life story.

Was… he supposed to say 'Good morning' back? Kevin kind of just wanted to hang up, but he wasn't sure how the House would take that. And he… wasn't sure he wanted to find out the hard way. Should he shout for Miss Idaho? Yeah, that sounded good… But he'd have to scramble and get dressed again first. Wait. How would he explain to Grandmama why he was shouting for Uncle Denzel's ex? Or if he called her by her cat name, what would the death notification guys think when an almost-teen upstairs started yelling "Girlfriend"?

"Um… Hi, House. Good morning to you too…?"

 _"It's so wonderful to meet you at last, dear."_

Kevin's fingers curled into his mouth. He said nothing.

The House switched to the voice of an unfamiliar male. _"I can't wait to show you around, Debbie. You're going to love it here."_

Kevin still didn't move. The House started to speak again, but its words trailed off too soon. Then it tried it again, this time with the voice of a teenager.

 _"I need help for someone super-duper important to me."_

"I'm s-s-sorry, House… I'm just a kid. I just got here from Idaho last night. This is my first time ever in Dimmsdale, so… you don't want my help. You should ask my uncle. O-or Miss Idaho. Miss Idaho will help you."

 _"I'm afraid of the dark, Denzie! Can you snuggle me?"_

Kevin tilted back his head. "I can't help you, House. Please don't ask anymore. Talk to Miss Idaho if you need anything."

 _"Mommy never listens to me!"_ shouted a little girl's voice. Then, like before, " _I'm afraid of the dark, Denzie! I'm afraid of the dark, Denzie! I'm afraid of the_ – _"_

"Stop it! Please, please stop… I'm sorry, House. I can't help you."

 _"I'm an adult. I want to be treated like an adult."_

"I'm sorry." Kevin tried to steady his breathing. "I'm sorry."

 _"You can see the room right now,"_ the House offered with his uncle's enthusiasm.

"Why am I crying?" Kevin muttered. He clutched his knees to his chest. "This is so… I mean, I shouldn't be so…"

 _"Why can't I have it?"_ asked the House in the high-pitched voice of a child.

"H-have what?"

 _"No, inside my tummy!"_

"Can I, uh… ask for specifics?"

Brief silence. Then, with another creak, _"Crocker family…"_

Kevin lifted his gaze to the ceiling again. His shoulders trembled every time he breathed. What did you even say to that? He didn't answer. Although many minutes passed, neither did the House. Eventually, the other end of the line hung up. His phone went black.

He never did take that shower. For an hour, he sat on the floor with his shirt off and his pants only hanging on by one leg, clutching the cord of his lucky necklace and wishing he still believed it worked. His phone rang again about twenty minutes in, but he didn't dare check the caller's name.

When Kevin came downstairs, Grandmama and the people who'd brought the news of Great-Uncle Albert's death were gone. Good. It would've been awkward to eat cereal next door to elderly people discussing a funeral or something. Hm. Did they even have cereal? Kevin poked his head into the kitchen, fingers wrapped around the doorframe. No ghostly memories peered back at him. He slipped inside.

It turned out that when Grandmama had gone shopping last night, she actually _had_ bought good cereal. Kevin pulled out three boxes, then rethought his decision to mix them in the same bowl and put two of them back. He'd be stuck here until August, after all, so may as well keep them fresh. One would do for now. Kevin poured himself a bowl of Square-Os, then set the box on the dining room table. The back wall was made up of a sliding glass door. He could see Grandmama kneeling in the garden, holding four worms.

Just as he was adding some almond milk (the only option available), the doorbell rang. Oh boy. At least it probably wouldn't be another death notification. Well, most likely. Kevin folded the carton shut and stared unhappily at his bowl. The milk went back in the fridge. Truth be told, he really wasn't keen on the idea of seeing Trixie or the Guildford kids again. And if anyone else was at the door, he probably didn't know them. Just once, he'd like someone in Dimmsdale to really be nice to him, the way a real friend would. A friend who would love to hear him talk about his inventions, and who would smile and keep their mouth shut if they didn't have anything nice to say. Nevertheless, he picked up his bowl and spoon and trudged into the living room to greet their visitor. Grandmama was upset, Uncle Denzel was probably still asleep, and Miss Idaho didn't even have hands. Someone had to do it.

When Kevin opened the door, he found himself face to face with a boy who, judging by how windblown his curls were, may or may not have sprinted all the way here from the far end of Latin America. He wore a blue sweater and at least three charm bracelets on his right hand, and despite looking like he was only eight years old, his cheeks were smeared with lipstick stains. He also held a black gift box wrapped in a silver bow. The boy took one look at Kevin, then dropped the present, clapped his hands to his face, and screamed in a shrieking pitch.

 _"Ahhh!_ Why didn't I disenchant the house the last time I was here? Crocker, you've shrunk!"

Something about the curly-haired boy looked sort of familiar… Kevin flashed what he hoped was a cool sign with his fingers. "Yo, s'up? I'm Kevin. Denzel Crocker is my uncle, and I'm staying with him and my grandma for the summer. Are you that kid with the sleight-of-hand magic channel on TooYube? My friend showed me a couple of your tricks. You're good. Well, I thought he was my friend. Turns out he really wasn't."

The boy stood on the front step, frozen, for twenty seconds or so. He seemed to be running several dozen calculations through his head, studying Kevin's face with detached fascination. Kevin raised his eyebrows at him and continued to stand in the doorway, calmly eating his Square-Os. If he could deal with the creepy House, he could handle any stranger.

"You are?" he finally prompted.

The boy blinked and shook his head. "Ah, well. Call me Foop. Everyone does. Is your uncle awake yet?"

Kevin's mouth was full, which prevented him from commenting on the boy's rather odd name. After swallowing, he said, "Probably not. He was out late last night. Hardware store, I guess."

"Oh, jolly. Is your grandmother in?"

"If by 'in' you mean in the garden out back, then yeah."

For some reason, this seemed to annoy Foop further. "So you mean, it's just you and your uncle inside the house, and as far as you know, he's still out like a broken mirror?"

"I guess," Kevin muttered. Trailing off, he turned to glance around the living room. Miss Idaho groomed her leg over on the couch, not caring who saw. Although calling her "Girlfriend" again when she acted so animal might have been more appropriate. Smokey/Dennis lay on his side beneath the little table that held the house phone, glaring at them both. "I mean, there's the cats. And the spiders, and the birds."

Foop dragged his hand down his cheek and grumbled words that didn't sound English. Louder, he said, "I didn't bring my pendant, and this human skin is chafing at my bones. A few more minutes and I'm going to lose my concentration. I'd so much rather be inside and out of the public eye when that happens. May I come in?"

Kevin considered this request as he took another bite of cereal. Then he granted the stranger entry. After all, this kid seemed to know his uncle well enough. The "human skin" comment was proof of that all on its own. Maybe weird speech patterns ran in the crowd. He looked fairly young, but it was still possible he could be in Uncle Denzel's fifth-grade class at school. He was probably just really short for his age, and Kevin was tall, so who knew? Maybe he was here for Saturday detention or something. He'd heard one of the kids at Shirley's make a comment like that in passing. Hanging around 'Mr. Crocker' when you didn't have to was supposedly pretty brutal.

"I'm eating," Kevin told Foop after he came in. He shut the door with his shoulder. "But when I'm done with this bowl, I could get you something, if you want. My Grandmama went shopping last night, and she almost overbought. Almost. I think she plans to feed me until I go up three sizes in jeans. Then again, maybe I'm safe. Uncle Denzel seems to be thin as a whistle, anyway. I hope she plans to cook something nice, at least."

Foop had a distracted air about him. He kept turning his head from side to side, hugging the black and silver present to his chest. Only after Kevin had stopped talking and gone back to clicking his spoon around his bowl did the boy turn to look at him again. "Has Crocker got around to mentioning me yet?"

"No. Not unless your real name is Timmy Turner."

"Really?" Foop's nose twitched. "Well, that's unfortunate. And honestly a little damaging to my pride."

Silence fell around them. Foop continued to stand there, tugging almost constantly on the front of his sweater and itching his arms beneath his sleeves. Kevin finished his cereal, despite the fact that Foop's intense stare bore into his forehead while he ate. He disappeared into the kitchen long enough to refill his bowl. When he came out again, he found Foop looking like he'd been kicked in the gut by a very small donkey, his face all contorted with imaginary pain.

"What?" Kevin asked, dipping his spoon in the milk again.

"I can't retain this shape any longer," Foop said simply. "By any chance, do you have a problem with anti-fairies?"

"I guess not, but mostly because I don't really know what that is."

"Then I do hope you won't mind if I slip into something a little more _comfortable!"_ With a sudden puff of dark smoke that seemed to burst straight out of him, Foop disappeared. In his place hovered a strange, furry, cube-shaped creature in a baby onesie. He shooed the smoke away with one blue hand. His other hand clutched a little bottle with bat wings flanking its sides. The child himself, upon a second look, had bat-like wings flapping behind him, although maybe calling them "dragon wings" would be more appropriate. After all, they weren't connected to his arms. He still held the black and silver present, although now the box was almost as big as he was.

Inwardly, Kevin sighed. This must be the "square blue bat child" that Miss Idaho had mentioned once rented out the mystery room upstairs. Accurate description. Hit the nail right on the head. Kevin looked him up and down, still crunching through his Square-Os. He swallowed a little too fast so he could speak.

"White toes, huh? That's very Mexican free-tailed bat of you. Wait, so if you're a Mexican vampire, why do you sound British?"

Foop tossed him a surprised look that only carried the faintest shred of annoyance. He pocketed his bottle somehow and brushed lingering curls of smoke from his arms. "You're… perceptive. I'm an anti-fairy. I'm neither from Mexico nor England, although I did inherit my father's accent, didn't I?"

Kevin gave up trying to count how many times Foop had ended his sentences with that almost-sneering upward inflection since his arrival. He knew he should probably question the bizarre scene in front of him, then didn't. He leaned back on his heels. "Oh, so you're an anti-fairy, huh? Sure, that's just weird enough to sound completely believable for my wacky life right now. So, what's it like to be an anti-fairy?"

"Ick. Recently, it's been busy. In my culture, May 13th is The Day of Unspoken Bonds: possibly the most romantic day on the Anti-Fairy calendar, except of course May 14th." He rubbed a lipstick smear on his cheek away. "I'm a prince, and I had to kiss a lot of babies. Being a baby myself, you can imagine how this went down."

"Is an anti-fairy a kind of fairy? Y'know, I'm starting to see why you're so good at sleight-of-hand."

"Of course!" Foop struck what probably would have been a pose, if his body hadn't been so stiff and blocky. "Fame and fortune don't just fall out of the sky for free. Popularity takes hard work, discipline, and most importantly: talent. At least I have my popular purple puffball of a counterpart beat _online."_

Kevin thought back to some of the vulgar comments he remembered reading on those sleight-of-hand videos, and winced. "So, uh… What's in the box?"

Foop glanced at the present in his hands. He shook it several times in the air so whatever was inside rattled around. "Oh, right. I brought a two-days-late-but-still-very-much-appreciated birthday gift for your uncle. Though I'm not sure it's even still good… or at this point, alive. It came out a little squashed when I smuggled it through customs."

"Alive is good. I'll accept alive."

Trudging footsteps echoed on the front porch. The doorknob twisted. Then the door swung open (which is usually what doors do). Uncle Denzel came into the living room in his green pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the back of the hand that clutched his glasses. When he spotted the pair hanging out in the front room, he seized up.

 _"Gah!_ Kevin and Foop! What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Kevin said.

Foop shrugged defensively. "Your nephew let me in. And I thought I'd just see where this goes from here, you know, maybe score a new Foop-sized playmate out of the deal…"

Crocker's hand came out towards Kevin in a desperate gesture, like _"? ? ?"_

"Yeah, I get it. I'll see myself out and give you two some privacy. Check ya later." Kevin wandered back into the kitchen with his cereal. Oh wow, the memory/ghost boy who looked like a pilgrim was over in the dining room. Of course he was. Weird, but he certainly didn't seem like a memory or a ghost. His form just looked solid from here. If it weren't for that out-of-date coat and pair of britches he was wearing, Kevin would have thought his uncle had invited a second estranged nephew to visit for the summer and forgotten to let everyone know.

Well… Miss Idaho _had_ basically said that the memories made of stinky magic haunting this house couldn't touch or hurt him in any way, and she was a runaway fairy semi-permanently locked into the body of a hairless talking cat of her own free will, so she could probably be trusted. Just to see what would happen, Kevin sat down in the seat across from the pale boy. The boy had been gazing down at the two-legged kitten in his lap, but he looked up at Kevin with apparent surprise, and then smiled.

"So, you're a memory made from stinky witch magic?" Kevin asked. He set his bowl of Square-Os on the table. "Tell me what that's like."

The memory nodded. Okay, so he understood English. Or at least the House did.

"Can you talk?"

The memory thought about it, then shook his head. Huh. Did the House even control the memory ghosts, or did it just spawn them? If they couldn't speak, maybe the latter. Kevin brought his cereal to his lips.

"Can you write?"

This time, the memory reached for the prize from the Square-Os box—a small plastic key—which Kevin had fished out of the bottom (He was just going to look at it, honest! Then he'd put it back so he and Uncle Denzel could compete to see whose bowl it fell into). The memory's fingers passed through the prize, turning to spitting sparks on contact. He turned to Kevin, and sadly shrugged.

"Gotcha. So you can't touch real things, and you don't have a pencil or paper of your own. Just the memory of that cat. Hmm."

Nod.

"Why can you sit in a chair but not touch a pencil?"

"Kevin?" Uncle Denzel called from the other room. "Are you talking to someone in there? Perhaps a _**FAIRY?**_ Oh, I hope it's not Mother. You don't need her filling your head with self-loathing this early on a Saturday. _Let me enjoy the one meal of the day that still brings a semblance of joy to my life, Mother!"_

"No, Uncle Denzel," Kevin called back. "It's just one of the house's memory ghosts."

A pause. Then quick steps. Uncle Denzel appeared in the dining room doorway, pressing one hand against the wall. Foop hovered behind his shoulder with an equally puzzled expression. Uncle Denzel adjusted his glasses with two fingers and a frown. "The house's memory ghosts, you say?"

Kevin lifted his spoon to gesture vaguely at the memory sitting in the other chair. The child was still there, though his knees were now pulled up to his chest, and most of his face was obscured by kitten fur.

"I don't see anything," Foop said, clutching his bottle tight, and Uncle Denzel seconded this with a thoughtful murmur.

 _"Of_ course you don't." Kevin walked past them so he could rinse his empty dish in the sink. He turned to dry his hands on the ratty rag dangling from the oven handle, and noticed the boy had disappeared. "Oh look," he scoffed. "He's gone again. He does this, but he'll be back. You'll see. Actually, you won't see. Apparently I'm the only one he shows himself to, so I guess your weird house likes me even more than the cats. Next you'll probably tell me you can't see that creepy room at the end of the hall either. Oh wait, Girlfriend said you rented that out to Foop here one time, so I guess you know all about that."

He sighed. "Oh well. Since my phone battery is basically dead thanks to the power in the wall sockets going on and off, and I'm not sure where to find a reliable plug for my soldering iron, I'll just go outside and weed the garden with Grandmama for a few hours. That is her out there, right? That looks like her. Have fun over in the living room, or wherever it is you guys hang. Peace out."

Both man and bat baby stared at him, jaws hanging, as Kevin headed into the dining room and then out through the sliding back door. He mused about the expression on Uncle Denzel's face the whole way. He and his uncle might look alike, but how similar were they, really?

Miss Idaho had made that comment last night about how she'd noticed Uncle Denzel possessed "the power of levitation." The way she'd said it suggested she doubted Kevin could do the same. Which seemed to be true. Kevin had watched the way his uncle twitched and flailed each time he used the word "fairy" in conversation. But he couldn't say the same for himself, either with the word "fairy" or with the word "cyborg."

Maybe different witches could have different powers, even in the same family. That might explain Grandmama's ability to sense Great-Uncle Albert's death before anyone even told her about it. Maybe seeing these "memory ghosts" in physical form was a witch power too… or maybe the house's stinky magic could choose who it showed itself to, the same way it seemed like Miss Idaho could only be understood by someone she chose to hear her even if he and his Uncle Denzel were both on the stairs together.

Or, maybe Miss Idaho was nuts, his uncle had a nervous tic, and Kevin was chronically inflicted with hallucinations of talking cats. By this point, that made complete sense too. Moreso, maybe.

Kevin slid open the house's rear door and joined Grandmama in the garden. She knelt in the hot dirt, prodding the soil with a trowel. "Hello again, Kevin," she said when he came out. She hadn't even looked up. She just knew it was him without turning around.

"Um, hi… Are you doing okay after, uh, this morning?"

Grandmama sighed. She stabbed the trowel into the ground and drew a sharp, random line before reaching for her lemonade glass. "Gardening helps."

"I guess so… Would you mind if I join in? I help Mommy with the weeding back home all the time, so I know what I'm doing."

"Here." Grandmama handed him her trowel. "Take my gloves too."

"I can't–"

"I insist." She stripped them off and handed them over. "My hands have worn with callouses over the years. Thorns hardly graze me anyway."

They worked in silence for several minutes, probing the long garden for weeds and stray thorns. Kevin sunk his trowel beneath a particularly big knot of crabgrass, then paused. "Grandmama? Can I ask you something weird?"

Grandmama looked up at him, pulling a shiny new garbage bag from the box beside her. "What is it, dear?"

"Um… Does Uncle Denzel's cat ever talk to you, and do you ever see weird spirits floating around the house whenever you're alone?"

At least, that's what his question was _supposed_ to be. But the words that popped out of his mouth were entirely different.

"Can you tell me what my Mommy and Dad were like when they were my age?"

"Oh." Grandmama sat back on her heels. She wiped her hand across her forehead, leaving a long smear of mud behind. "Well… Denise always was fascinated by airplanes. All sorts of flight, really. Even before her interest in vampires consumed her, she would spend hours drawing bird wings, bat wings, and even rockets on pieces of copy paper. She'd shade them blue with colored pencils. Denzel was working with blueprints by that point, and she wanted to be just like her big brother."

Kevin found himself smiling just a little at that. He stuffed the weeds away and reached for some new ones. "Really?"

"Yes, and as she grew older, she used to steal his good paper to draw on too."

"Gee, Uncle Denzel must have hated that."

"No," she said softly. Her fingers gripped the garbage bag. "For many years, Denzel loved her more than he loved anyone or anything in the world. If fairy godparents were his holy grail, Denise was the god he hoped to show them to. They were born fourteen years apart, but Denzel adored her as though she was his twin. They were closer than Albert and I ever were. He never accepted it when Denise disappeared without a proper good-bye. All she left us was a note." Grandmama appraised Kevin with a new, curious look. "Would I have known your father? Could he be that roguish young scamp your mother ran off with?"

Kevin nodded and thrust his trough into the dirt again. Grandmama closed her eyes. She reached for her lemonade and brought the straw to her lips.

"Let me try to remember. That was a dozen years ago now… You are eleven, aren't you?" She sighed. The glass came down again. "Elliot Buxaplenty. His older brother, Bennett, lives here in town with his wife, Seneca. Their family struck it rich off the railway, you know. Since we could never afford tickets on a plane, Denise ran off on a train instead."

Kevin paused. Then his head shot up like a spring. "What? Mommy always said my Dad's name was Elliot _Buxley_. At least, I think she did. I guess it was a long time ago when I last asked her for the story, so I guess I could have misremembered."

Grandmama shrugged. She peered into the pail of worms and adjusted her glasses with two fingers. "The Buxaplentys have a little boy around your age. Reggie, or Richie his name is. I believe he just turned 12 this April. You could pay him a visit."

"Huh? Here in town? You mean, like, I could just walk over and see them _today?_ " Kevin's eyes snapped wide. He'd never had a real cousin before. Logically he knew he must have some somewhere in the world, since after all, Elliot Buxley (er, Buxaplenty) was supposed to be the 10th of 11 kids. Of course he had cousins somewhere, but he'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts about Mommy / Marvin / Molly / Miss Idaho / The popular kids / Memory ghosts / Death notifications / Phone calls from the house / Foop / Uncle Denzel, the thought that his dad's family might still be living in Dimmsdale _today_ , with _kids his age_ , had never really crossed his mind.

"I have the address," Grandmama mused, rolling her eyes towards the sky. "My son used to teach little Reggie before he moved up to middle school. I drove him home more than once. Sweet boy, really, but he's quite shy."

"That's amazing," Kevin whispered. He leaned forward on his hands, fingers clenching into the dirt. "Of all the people… I mean, of course! Duh. 11 kids. At least one of them would still be living in Dimmsdale. I should've guessed!"

Grandmama nodded and went back to pulling weeds. "Why don't you run inside and wash up? Give me an hour to finish with this section, and I'll drive you over. He may not be able to come out and play today, but you can at least tell him 'Hi.'"

"Wait, you can still drive? You're not too old? Who cares!" Kevin flung his arms into the air. "I'm going to meet one of my estranged cousins for the first time ever! This is the greatest day I've had since before I met Marvin and Molly! Thank you, Grandmama! _Thank you!"_ He hugged her neck, kissed her cheek just below her glasses, and ran back to the house with more than a slight spring in his step. It felt like he was literally running on air.

For about five seconds. Halfway through the kitchen, Uncle Denzel snagged him by the back of his shirt. He'd been going so fast, his feet literally flew up in front of him. _"Greech!"_ Kevin squealed, grabbing for his throat. Uncle Denzel yanked him backwards and grabbed hold of his forearm.

"Kevin, my boy! I was just about to come and get you. Grab your coat–we're going out. Today's the day the Crocker family gets a new pet!"

"You know," Foop said, "it really disturbs me that you call them that."

Kevin blinked, pawing at his neck. "Wait, what?"

Uncle Denzel shook his head. After pushing his glasses up with one finger, he crouched a bit so his face was closer to Kevin's level. He didn't let go of his nephew's arm. "It's like this, Kevin. When your mother first called to tell me you were coming to town, I called up a good friend I haven't seen for ages. He said he doesn't have enough time to stop by just yet, but to put my belated birthday meal on his tab, because for once he's actually paying for it. So, Foop invited someone else along, and at long last, I'll have the opportunity to speak the words that have never left my mouth before tonight." His uncle clasped a hand over his chest, standing straighter, and sniffled. "Table for _four._ "

"What? No!" Kevin tried to squirm his arm away, but holy _cow,_ the old man had a grip like a cyborg. "Uncle Denzel, I already made lunch plans! Grandmama is taking me to Reggie Buxaplenty's house today!"

"Remy Buxaplenty?" Foop cocked his head. He still held the wrapped present he'd brought over. "How is his arm healing up, by the way? I've been meaning to look into that."

"I don't know. I didn't ask."

Uncle Denzel chuckled and dropped his hands on Kevin's shoulders. "I happen to know something even more exciting than crossing town for the Buxaplentys."

"What? Really? No way." As soon as the words left his mouth, Kevin's eyes widened in horror. Foop and his uncle grabbed him under the arms anyway.

"Road trip!" they sang together.

 _"Nooo!"_ Kevin wailed. He dove for the hallway. Maybe he had time to reach the bathroom and lock the door?

Too late. Despite his struggles, Foop and Uncle Denzel dragged him outside to a pretty suspicious looking van that, despite its name, had the words _Unsuspecting Van_ smeared on the sides in clumsy lettering. Kevin hoped he'd at least be allowed to sit up front, but they chucked him in the back and slammed the doors behind him. Kevin got to his knees, rubbing his arm. It felt bruised. His uncle and Foop climbed in the van's front and turned the music up load. The van zoomed forward, bumping over every lump in the road. Kevin lurched against the wall and clung onto some kind of odd metal contraption jutting out of it for support.

It felt like they drove for an hour, but every time Kevin checked his phone's clock, only a few more minutes had passed since the last time. They either hit every green light, or Uncle Denzel ran them all anyway.

Finally, after maybe twenty minutes, the van skidded over the curb and finally jerked to a stop in what was probably a parking space. Kevin poked his head above the seats and squinted through the window. They'd parked just in front of a small restaurant–the diner type. He could see a giant, goofy statue of a pig out front, but he couldn't tell much else from this angle.

Uncle Denzel switched off the engine and twisted around. "Kevin, you've lived a long and sheltered life in Idaho. The things you may see and hear in Dimmsdale may shock, horrify, and amaze you, but this is the town we Crockers call home."

"I'm cool with that."

His uncle leveled his gaze. "I'm being completely serious, Kevin. Not every rumor turns out to be a rumor, and not every lead is a false trail. Cryptozoology is the Crocker family legacy for generations, stretching all the way back to the time we called ourselves Bitterroots. If you intend to be part of this family for even a moment, you need to respect the things we all choose to devote our time to researching. No matter how crazy anyone outside the family thinks we might be. A skeptical Crocker isn't even a Crocker at all, and no one in our little tree would ever call them such."

Kevin gave him a thumbs up. "Sounds good to me."

His uncle's eyes lit like glowworms. _"Great!_ Which is why I brought a confidentiality agreement you need to sign. You're a Crocker! What happens in the Crocker family is meant to stay within the Crocker family. Except for the occasional instance when your personal data is leaked online for the entire world to see and humiliate you with. So, here!" Uncle Denzel pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Foop, who strained his little arm to hand it back to Kevin. "Sign on the dotted line at the bottom, and we can officially invite you on board the family business–plus Foop and Laser."

"Aww," Foop said, drooping forward. He shook his tiny fist. "One of these days you'll forget that clarification, and I shall torment you about it endlessly."

As his uncle and the anti-fairy began to bicker up front, Kevin skimmed through the confidentiality agreement he'd been given. It wasn't very long, and didn't contain nearly as much legal jargon as he'd expected it to. Or information about the 'family business' itself, for that matter.

Whatever. If it meant he could call himself a Crocker in his uncle's eyes, sure. Kevin didn't have a problem with that. Yesterday alone he'd met some memory ghosts, a talking cat, and a cyborg after all. Nothing wrong with agreeing he wouldn't deny it to his uncle's face. He signed it and, when Uncle Denzel popped open the back of the van, hopped out and handed it over.

"Excellent," his uncle crowed. He thrust his glasses higher with a finger. The paper went back into his pocket, this time more crumpled than folded. "Well, come along, Kevin. It's bottomless clam chowder day, you know."

Uncle Denzel and Foop hopped from the van, but a minute passed and they forgot to come around the back to let him out. So Kevin wriggled over the seats and climbed out after them. The sun seared down today. Kevin shielded his eyes. This was his first time wandering Dimmsdale in the daylight. Foop was back in his human disguise, itching his arms and muttering to himself. Kevin walked over to stand beside him.

"The Cake 'N Bacon," he read aloud from the sign on the diner's window.

"Exactly!" Uncle Denzel grabbed his hand and one of Foop's. His grip put Bigfoot's to shame. "A little taste of local weird! They don't serve a lot besides bacon and cake, but it's still my favorite restaurant in the whole town. Besides, they take 5% off your tab on birthdays!"

Kevin stumbled after him, trying to keep up with his uncle's humongous steps. "But your birthday was Thursday, Uncle Denzel."

"They don't know that," the man answered with a twinkle in his eyes.

The diner had a mellow, drab feel to its insides. Its walls had been painted blue, but the paint was chipping off in more than a few places. Two flies buzzed around the door. The three waitresses bobbing about wore yellow and white, but none of them looked particularly cheery. A teenage girl with a squirrel-scarlet ponytail locked eyes on them. She beelined over instantly, grabbing three menus on the way. Uncle Denzel stopped walking. His hands flew halfway to his mouth.

"Oh no! She knows that!"

"Hide me," Foop whimpered, half-ducking behind Kevin.

"Welcome to the Cake N' Bacon," chirped the girl, holding the menus by her waist. "Follow me this way, please."

The diner was on the crowded side today, but the waitress found their trio a booth seat by the window. It was… almost unoccupied. Leaning against the corner of the wall, surrounded by more than a few swirling shadows, sat a hooded figure in a brown cloak. His gnarled gray hands rested on his stomach, folded together so the knuckles bulged. The Grim Reaper? Kevin blinked and stopped walking too fast, so Foop bumped into him. Was it usual for waitresses to seat someone at a table where someone was already waiting?

Well, if it was, their waitress didn't acknowledge it. Foop slid across the bench to sit beside the ghoul-like figure, though, and Uncle Denzel sat on the end. That left Kevin on the other side alone. So, uh… okay. The waitress distributed the menus (Foop got a paper one for kids and three crayons to draw with), then set her hands to her hips.

"My name's Vicky. It's nice to see a few outsiders in our little local joint. I know you, Crocker, but where are the rest of y'all from?"

The _y'all_ rolled awkwardly off her tongue. Foop hesitated, then offered, "Luna… City?"

"Oh?" Vicky picked at one of her fingernails. "Where's that, then?"

"… Connecticut?"

The Reaper lifted his hand. "I hail from the twenty-third plane of existence myself. Twenty-fourth, technically. I upgraded from the mystical life-giving fountain of the gods to a cheap dorm room few million years ago. It's not exactly glamorous and I have half a dozen kids to raise, but hey, the commute is at least ten minutes shorter, so I can't complain."

"Peachfield, Idaho," Kevin said, feeling boring.

Vicky bobbed her head. "What can I get started for you three today?"

Three? Kevin recounted the people at the table. The Grim Reaper raised a finger to his lips to shush him. Oh. Gotcha.

"What do you have?" he asked, trying to glimpse what the people in the next booth were eating.

"Menus." Vicky shoved one into his hands. "Read 'em."

"We'll need a moment," Crocker assured her, flipping open his own. Foop had already lost interest in her and started peeling the wrappers off his crayons. The birthday present tumbled from his lap to the floor.

After Vicky left, Kevin asked, "You said it was bottomless clam chowder day, right? Where's that on the menu?"

Uncle Denzel plucked the menu away from him. "Order food later, Kevin. Introductions now."

Foop looked up. "Oh, right!" After clearing his throat, he waved his hand at the cloaked figure sitting beside him. "Kevin, if I may have the honor of introducing the all-powerful, so oft misunderstood–"

"We've met," Kevin and the Grim Reaper said together.

"You've what?"

"I did a job shadow with him once back in Peachfield." Kevin checked his phone, until several seconds passed in silence. Huh? When he looked up, Foop and Uncle Denzel were giving him those puzzled stares again. Kevin shifted his gaze back and forth. "What? Was I supposed to tell you _everything_ about my past when I got here? Gee, I'm surprised Mommy didn't blab it already, since she already trusts you to take care of me until the wedding."

Foop flung his arms forward, still clutching the baby bottle he seemed to carry with him everywhere. "You've _met_ the Grim Reaper? As in, you two have talked? You did a _job shadow_ with the _Grim Reaper?_ I mean, that just seems a little…"

"Contrived?" Kevin asked.

"No, I mean it's so… Wow! Really now, that's the kind of thing you wanna let a baby _know_ , Little Crock."

"Well, it didn't seem important before…"

"Not important?" Foop grabbed the table's edge and leaned forward, his eyes bugging out. "But that sounds so _fascinating_! How couldn't it be important?"

"It's…" Kevin's eyes fell half-shut. "… really not that cool."

"We're old friends," the Reaper supplied, leaning forward on his elbows. He tucked the area of space that was probably his chin atop the heels of his hands. "Have been for years."

"We are not friends."

"Pen pals?"

"No."

Foop clasped his hands. "Details, please?"

Kevin scowled at the menu in Uncle Denzel's hands. "Foop? Just drop it, okay? You're making this out to be bigger than it is, and I'm not in the mood for questions right now."

The baby's arms went sideways. "But it's the _Grim Reaper!_ Why am I the only one fanboying over this?"

The Reaper slid his arm behind Foop's shoulders and pulled him into a sideways squeeze. "Kevin and I first met at the birthday party of a… mutual acquaintance, I guess you could say. The only Crocker I've ever even liked." He patted Foop twice on the head. "Don't worry about it right now though, buddy. After all, _some_ people don't think it's a big deal."

"It's not," Kevin said.

Foop bit his lip, cheeks puffed, and was obviously questioning this tidbit of information _quite a bit_. At that moment, Vicky swept by again to take their orders. After she left, Foop finally said, "All right, I'll let it go for now," but made an _I'm watching you_ sign Kevin's way. "That said, I _will_ follow up with you about this when I talk to you about your invisible ghost problem. Prepare accordingly."

Kevin shrugged and glanced at his phone again. "Hopefully that whole thing with the House and stinky magic won't be a problem much longer. I mean, I sent an email to Danny Phantom this morning. I don't know when he'll read it, but I think he'll take care of it when he can. I'm here until August, so I've got time."

Foop dropped his sippy cup then and there. It cracked against the table and bounced into the Grim Reaper's lap. "The Creature-hunter? He's coming _here?"_

"Creature-hunter?" Kevin had never thought about that label before, since he usually saw Phantom as this guy who just worked with ghosts. He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Kevin…" That was Uncle Denzel. His fingers curled around the table's edge. "What did you do?"

Foop clung to his uncle's arm. "We'll probably have to leave town. We'll live off the road, hunting beetles and spiderwebs for all our meals!"

The Grim Reaper raised Foop's water glass to his lips. "I love drama."

Kevin shrank into his shoulders. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts, Uncle Denzel. Isn't that why I'm the only one who can see the ones living in your house? Because you don't believe?"

"Of course I believe in ghosts, Kevin! What sort of cryptozoologist would I be if I denied the existence of creatures that publicly-accepted science has already documented as real?" Uncle Denzel glowered at him and jabbed a finger into the table. "Forgive me if I don't want yet another Creature-hunter poking his dirty fingers all over my house. On second thought, _don't!"_

"Well, I'm sorry," Kevin shot back. "It just made sense at the time. And anyway, Phantom's probably not even coming. I just emailed asking if I could see some blueprints, that's it."

"It's not the Crocker way to hire rogue Creature hunters to do our job. Collaboration, sure, by all means, but a full-on handover is out of the question."

Kevin glared at Foop's shredded crayon wrappers. "Like I'd know that," he muttered.

The Grim Reaper drew a golden pocket watch from the shadows somehow and gave it a glance. "Since we've all been introduced, I'm going to finish what I came here for and then take my leave. My team do the best they can without me, but I still have a good four souls to collect in person before I hit the gym. Anyway!"

He ducked beneath the table. Kevin and Foop exchanged a glance, but the guy popped up again a second later with _an entire iguana_ in his hands. He plunked it in the middle of the table, totally ignoring the fact that Vicky would need space when she brought out their food. "This is for you," he said cheerily. "See? I'm not totally unreliable after all. So maybe I do let myself get outfoxed by mortals every now and again, but when it comes time to deliver, I _deliver._ What do you think?"

"That's an iguana," Kevin said, resting his chin on his hand.

"A small iguana," the Reaper clarified. "Last one I had in stock at the shop, too. I thought it made the most sense to hand the little angel over here. Beats leaving it on your porch like some weirdo, right?"

Foop rolled his eyes, but Uncle Denzel seemed to be drinking this up. He held out his (ungloved) arms for the iguana like a child awaiting a popsicle. "Sure, makes sense to me!"

The Reaper slid over a sudden stack of paperwork too. "The usual. And use the red pen, please. Blood is so unsanitary. I don't always know where that stuff's been, you know?"

Kevin watched his uncle sign his name on three lines without reading a word. Foop noticed too. They exchanged glances, but neither said anything. Once the signatures had been made, the Reaper stood up and snapped his bony fingers. The papers disappeared in a seafoam green flame. "Thank you," he sing-songed. "Please allow 2-3 business days for the process to complete on my end of things. Standard rates may apply, and this offer cannot be combined with any others you may have recently received. No refunds are permitted. And with that settled, I should really hit the road." He waved. "Nice to bump into you again, Kevin. See you soon."

"Soon?" Kevin asked, his brows shooting up, but the Reaper had already turned to his uncle again.

"Oh, and be sure to give my shop an excellent rating on Fairyscope, 'kay? Same deal, Foop."

"You're a good man, G.R.," Uncle Denzel said, cradling the iguana.

"Hey, the Elsewhereness knows I try." With another snap of his fingers, the Reaper melted into shadow and completely disappeared. Kevin reached for his water glass.

"So, uh, is this a normal Saturday lunch in Dimmsdale? Making a deal with Death to swap sandwiches for reptiles?"

"Not usually reptiles," Uncle Denzel admitted, holding the iguana like a teddy bear. "Getting a lizard is new. In the past it's just been cats, birds, and spiders."

It wasn't until Vicky brought out their servings of clam chowder that it hit him. Oh. Everyone paused to thank her, which she responded to with a scoff. She didn't seem to notice the iguana (or at least didn't seem to care about it), but Kevin's eyes snapped from it to his uncle's face. Then to Foop's. Foop was too busy petting the lizard's spines to notice, and his uncle was eyeing his soup bowl. "Oh," Kevin said. He lowered his spoon. "Oh…"

 _"Dennis was his old name,"_ Miss Idaho had sniffed at him this morning in the hall. She hadn't wanted to use 'Smokey.' Kevin dropped his hands to his lap and checked the iguana over again. Wow. What a coincidence the Grim Reaper would hand one of those over to the Crocker family the same day Great-Uncle Albert died…

Under the table, Kevin typed the question _Do witches turn into animals when they die?_ into his phone. Only after he hit _Search_ did he realize that was kind of a dumb thing to ask. Oh well. He'd have to talk to Miss Idaho about it later. Uncle Denzel was way too excited about opening the birthday gift Foop had brought him to answer any serious questions right now, and Kevin still hadn't decided whether or not he really knew about witch stuff anyway.

His uncle hadn't even torn the wrapping yet. He was too busy rotating it around or shaking it beside his ear, trying to determine what was inside despite Foop's insistence he should just rip off the paper and see for himself. Kevin took the chance to check his email too. 1 new message. Oh, sweet. His thumb couldn't slam down fast enough.

 _Hi, Kevin! Danny here._

 _Unfortunately, for safety reasons, we can't hand out my parents' tech blueprints to just any stranger who emails us. But if you do have a serious ghost problem, leave me your address and I or one of my associates will check out the situation as soon as possible._

 _In the meantime, if a ghost has been living in your uncle's house for years, they probably like it there and haven't been causing a lot of trouble. Not all ghosts are malicious (I'm un-living proof!) Sometimes, all they really want is a friend. If you're brave enough, consider asking them if you can just talk face to face. That might turn out to be all you need._

 _Good luck,_

 _D. Phantom_

 _P.S. If your ghost really has taken up residence in our world, they're probably a fan of meat. Meat turns into ghost animals once it's been in the Ghost Zone for a hot minute, so it's not exactly easy for them to come by. Want to call a truce? Offering some nice, cooked meat might be your best bet. Bone appetit! :)_

Kevin sighed. He read the message three times, then shut off his phone without replying with his address. His ghost problem wasn't that serious, and he didn't want to bother Phantom, even though hunting Creatures was kind of his job…

I mean, the guy probably had better things to do than help out some random loser kid all the way across the country anyway.


End file.
